Hope Springs
by hazelmom
Summary: Grissom could only wish everything had been different. GSR. And angst. Yes, the dreaded angst. Proceed at your own risk. Finished Fic!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: Hi! Hope you are all well. I'm going to try this a little more slowly. Maybe a chapter a week. I hope that works for folks. I am still trying to figure out how to do everything at the same time, and don't know another way to do this on top of school, teaching, and work. Can't yet give up this craziness. Love it too much. And you guys always make my life that much better. Thanks.

Sheila

Hope Springs

Chapter 1

He spotted the redhead out of the corner of his eye. She was pretty and dressed in a smooth, tan suit. Ecklie was walking with her; stopping every few seconds to point something out or introduce her to someone. Grissom moved into the hallway, keeping an eye on both of them through the glass walls of the lab. Conrad was focusing on the part of the lab that was farthest away from Grissom's office. Grissom was sure of it. There was no doubt in his mind that Ecklie was now going to do his best to get this girl safely hired before she ever had to interact with Grissom.

Grissom walked quietly into the room directly next to Ecklie. He picked up a folder, and pretended to be studying it intensely. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ecklie moving warily to the hall, guiding the woman, his hand on the small of her back. As they attempted to walk past the doorway where he was standing, he casually strolled into the hall, his eyes still glued to the folder. Ecklie jumped back when Grissom walked directly into his path. The woman stepped back in surprise. Grissom noticed that her red hair was rich with honey colored highlights. He found it to be a lovely contrast.

"Grissom!" Ecklie said. "Watch where you are going!"

Grissom's eyebrows rose. "Sorry Conrad. I was so engrossed in this case…" In that moment, he noticed that the file he picked up contained the last month's scheduling chart. He closed it abruptly.

"Never mind. If you will excuse us." Ecklie attempted to brush past him.

The woman cocked her head at Grissom. "Aren't you Dr. Gil Grissom, author of Forensic Entomology?"

Grissom smiled at her, taking a moment to pull off his glasses and put them in the breast pocket of his lab coat. "I am. And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

She smiled broadly, green eyes twinkling. "My name is Shannon Harris. And if I could just say what an honor it is to meet you. Of course, I knew you worked here, but I had no idea you were so accessible."

Ecklie let out an audible groan, but Grissom ignored him. He extended a hand and shook her hand warmly. "What brings you to our little lab, Shannon?"

"Well, I'm interviewing for the open CSI position. Mr. Ecklie here was kind enough to offer me a tour."

"Excellent!" said Grissom.

"Speaking of which, we really need to continue—"

"Where did you study?" Grissom ignored Ecklie.

"I have a bachelor's in biology from Columbia and a master's in microbiology from the University of California, San Diego. I also have 80 of my doctoral completed." She stood stiffly as if reciting a practiced monologue.

"And you read my text?"

"Of course! It is the bible for any of us intrigued with insects. The research for my dissertation is on the mung beetle and the maturation variation that happens in dry climates as opposed to wet. I have already cited you extensively in my practical applications section."

"You hear that, Conrad. I'm going to be in a dissertation." Grissom winked at his colleague.

"I'm very busy, Grissom." Ecklie spoke in clipped tones. "I do not have time to socialize with you and Miss Harris."

"Oh, Conrad, I'm sorry. Forgive me." Grissom smiled at the redhead one more time and turned to go. Ecklie began steering her in the opposite direction.

"I would imagine you're almost finished with the interview." Ecklie closed his eyes when he heard Grissom's voice.

Shannon turned her head. "I believe we were. Mr. Ecklie, you said you had an appointment at 2 p.m. and…" she tilted her wrist at her face. "It's two right now."

"And I interrupted you." Grissom showed a concerned face.

"It's okay." Ecklie put a hand up.

"I know. Let me finish this for you, Conrad. I will show Shannon the rest of the lab, and see her out."

Ecklie winced.

"Oh, is that possible?" Her voice rose a notch. "I would be so honored."

"It's not necessary, Grissom." Ecklie spoke through clenched teeth.

"It's okay, Conrad. Go do your meeting. Shannon and I will be just fine." Grissom reached over and patted Ecklie on the shoulder. He then extended an arm to her and ushered her down the hall. Ecklie muttered obscenities under his breath as his interview walked away from him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grissom gave her a painstakingly thorough search, and then brought her back to his office. For twenty minutes, he nodded politely while she described her research. He gave her ideas and pointers which she carefully recorded on a legal pad. Then he took a deep breath and began: "Shannon, you are a nice woman and a promising scientist, but you do not want this job."

Her eyes widened.

He shook his head. "The previous occupant of this position was a tremendous scientist. The work she put into this lab cannot be duplicated. The expectations I have for the next person hired are daunting."

"Well…I certainly intend to work hard. I'm not sure that you understand the type of commitment I am willing to make. In my last position, I averaged 57 hours a week."

"Here the average is 65."

"That's acceptable. I can take that on."

He nodded. "You would be replacing a woman named Sara. I used to call her on her days off and have her come in, sometimes just so I could see her."

Shannon screwed up her face. "You would be doing that to her replacement?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

"I don't understand."

"Sometimes I would give her mixed messages and leave her confused and frustrated."

"Excuse me?" Shannon began to tense in her chair.

"I just want you to know that I am capable of this sort of duplicity." He sighed. "She had personal problems that greatly impacted her work. I largely ignored them until it was almost too late."

"Dr. Grissom—"

"I avoided her for months after I found out she was dating someone."

"Dr. Grissom!" Her face was red and angry. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Confession is good for the soul."

"Not in a job interview, and certainly not on the part of the potential employer."

"We need the help, Shannon. But I just don't think that I'm ready."

She sat and considered his words for a moment. "Any chance you can get her back?"

"I don't know. You see, my last screw-up was my biggest—"

She quickly threw a hand up. "I do not want to know."

He grinned. "If you wanted this position badly, I would try, but I am not sure I would be the kind of boss you deserved."

"You weren't kidding about the 65 hours a week, were you?"

He shook his head.

"Well, maybe it's for the best. My husband and I are trying to get pregnant. I say I could take it on now, but it would become a conflict at some point."

"I understand."

"Just curious. How many applicants have you put through this?

"You are my third."

"Shame on you, Dr. Grissom! We deserve better than to be put in the middle of your little drama."

"You do."

She got up. "Well, I would like to say that it was a pleasure to meet you, but I am really not sure."

He spoke before she reached the doorway. "Do you need a reader on your dissertation?"

She turned around. "Confession is meaningless without penance, is that it?"

He shook his head. "No, I do actually have interest in your study and how it relates to the desert conditions of south central Nevada."

She thought for a moment. "Okay, give me your card. I'll send you what I have."

He handed one over the desk. She took it and grinned. "What did you do for the other applicants?"

He shrugged. "An introduction to the lab director in San Francisco and an invitation to sit in on my forensics seminar in January."

"All right, Dr. Grissom. You're forgiven." She shook her head and disappeared into the hallway. Within seconds another female filled her space.

"Chased away another one, didn't you, Gil?"

"She's trying to get pregnant."

"In your office?"

He glared at her.

"Well, then you should have left her the hell alone. We need the help. Sara must have been doing the work of two CSI's the way it feels since she's been gone." Catherine came in and plopped herself into the chair across from him.

"I've picked up most of the slack myself."

"Yeah, watching you work yourself to death has been a barrel of monkeys."

"I can hang on a little longer."

"It's been two months. She's had time to think. She's not coming back."

He didn't respond. Instead, he fished his glasses out of his pocket and put them on. He pulled files toward him and opened the first one.

"Grissom!" She waved a hand in front of him. "I'm still here."

He sighed and looked up. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Time to move on. We have a lab to run." She said sharply.

He rubbed his beard and looked away. "Do you talk to her?"

Catherine snorted. "She's not even returning Greg's phone calls. Leave her alone. She probably needs space from all of us."

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"How are the headaches?"

He shrugged and said nothing.

Catherine smirked. "You're done with this conversation, aren't you?"

He ran his tongue along his teeth before he spoke. "I won't interfere with any more interviews."

She nodded. "We need the help, Gil."

"Yeah." He dropped his head back into the open file at his desk. Catherine waited a moment, and then got up. Before she left, she turned. "Take care of yourself. Okay?" He didn't look up so she shook her head and left.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brass slammed the receiver back on the phone yelling, "Shit!" People outside his office looked up, but the only illumination he offered was a defiant glare. Then he was up and out of his office, striding down the hallway. He rounded the corner into the area of the lab and saw Sofia.

"Greg!" he barked. She raised an eyebrow, but pointed in the direction of DNA. Brass moved on with no further acknowledgement. He spotted Greg talking with Hodges.

"Greg!"

Greg and Hodges looked over.

"I need Sara's cell phone number."

Hodges raised his brows, and Brass resisted the temptation to squeeze the man's throat.

"Ah…don't you have it?" Greg was fumbling around in his lab coat.

"Cell phone number, Saunders!"

Greg cocked his spiky head. "Okay, slow down. What is going on?"

Brass glared at him. "Nothing."

"You cruise in here like Genghis Khan and I'm supposed to give you her number when she already doesn't want to talk with anybody. And I'm getting the sense that you plan to make it worse."

Brass let out a deep breath. "I need to talk to her, Greg. It's important."

"Tell me about it."

He gestured with his head. "Not in front of Sparkles, the king of all information that's none of his damn business."

Hodges dropped into his best 'wounded' stance, and stared at him with his mouth open. Ignoring him, Brass grabbed Greg by the arm and pulled him into the hall. "Listen, it's just me and you, but I still don't want to give details. Let's just say that Sara ignored procedure during a bust, and I got a call from a lieutenant I know, and I want to call Sara and talk to her about the incident."

Greg grimaced. "It must have been bad."

Brass sighed. "It wasn't good. But it can be fixed, and I know her and he doesn't, and so I'm going to talk to her."

"That's all you are going to tell me?"

"Yeah, and you don't talk to anybody. Not your lab buddies, nobody; especially not your boss. Hear me?"

Greg let out a low whistle. "She's okay though?"

"Yeah, Greggo, she's fine. Just needs to get a little finger wagging her direction is all."

You sure?"

"Give me the damn number!"

Greg fished his cell out of his pocket and found a number. Brass punched it into his phone, and walked off without a backwards glance.

He went out the back door into the bright sun, and hit talk. Twirling around, he waited for her machine as he knew that she would be screening. "Hello Sara. This is your old friend, Jim Brass. We need to talk, girl. I know you don't feel like talking to anyone right now, but you need to talk to me. I got a call from an old buddy in the department up there in Frisco. Says they don't know what to do with the maverick we sent them. Wonders if I allowed this kind of behavior down here. Says the captain up there is going to have heart failure if you continue to prance around crime scenes like you're SWAT or something. So I need to hear from you. And if I don't, I'm going to have to come up there and talk to you, and then everybody here at the lab is going to have to know what's going on. So call me. Hear me, young lady. Okay. Bye."

Brass cursed under his breath and jammed his phone back into his pocket.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Grissom walked into his home before noon. It meant he had a good ten hours before he needed to return to the lab. Most people would find it refreshing to have this time to unwind, but Grissom just wanted to sleep and work. Unfortunately, sleep had become a very complicated activity for him. He had always avoided sleep aids, but recently had asked Doc Robins to write him a prescription for Trazadone. In order to feel somewhat in control, he refused to take more than half a tab at a time.

Grissom scrambled some eggs, sliced a tomato, poured a glass of orange juice, and brought his plate to the coffee table in front of his TV. Morning TV on the Discovery channel was invariably disappointing, and so he chose the documentary channel and a frustrating documentary about being a dope addict living on the streets. He closed his eyes and wished someone would get interested in documenting the normalcy of life rather than people gripped in grisly struggles beyond their control.

He brought his mind back to a time three months ago when life felt vastly different than it did now. It was a chance event that changed something in his life and gave him hope.

He thought back to that morning when he found Lindsay seated in a chair outside Catherine's office. She had a deeply sullen look, and he was apprehensive about what his greeting her might produce as he had done his best to never interact with teen-age females. He found them to be hormonally challenged emotional tornadoes who had no sort of working relationship with logic.

But she was Lindsay and he had known her since she was 3 years old. So he smiled at her and said, "Hey Lindsay, how are you doing?"

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Life sucks."

His eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. Unsure of whether he should leave her to her misery or to offer her some sort of advice, he stood awkwardly in the hallway near Catherine's office.

"Uncle Gil, how old do I have to be to get emancipated in this state?"

He shifted from foot to foot. "Ah…you want to live on your own?"

I know what I'm doing plus Mom is driving me insane."

"Ah, Lindsay, you're only 13."

"So! Age is just a number." She glared at him with arms crossed defiantly.

Grissom waded in carefully. "Um, I don't think that you can live on your own at 13. In fact, I am pretty certain it's illegal."

"That is so stupid!"

He wondered if he needed to assure her that he had nothing to do with any legislation that crippled the rights of adolescents. He chose to sidestep that issue. "Honey, what's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Mom is making me do this stupid paper!"

His brow furled. He couldn't quite get a handle on the injustice of the situation. "Outside of school?" he ventured.

"No! She wants me to do this idiot paper for life sciences even though I told her that I could probably pass the class without doing it."

"So your mom just wants you to do your schoolwork, correct?"

She rolled her eyes. "God! I knew you would be on her side."

Grissom saw no other choice but to take the seat next to her. "I'm sorry, Lindsay. I would have to agree with your mother on this."

"I am not going to be some science nerd like you and Mom. I don't have to be like her."

He nodded. "This is true. In fact, I think I remember that I wanted to be anything except what my father was. Although, I suspect that this was because he was never around for me."

"So I shouldn't have to do this stupid paper. I can do my own thing."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, Linds, tell me. What's your thing?"

"I'm going to be a hostess at the Sands. I got a friend who says that I already look 16. In a couple of years, I will pass for 18, and they can hire me."

"Wow!" He let out a deep breath. "Don't even know where to start."

"Mom says that I am going to be well educated if it kills her. Says I am smart enough. I don't get what that has to do with anything. There is no way looking at dead bodies is as fun as dancing or hostessing. Gerard says I have a body that just won't quit."

He looked at her sternly. "Who is Gerard?"

"Lives in the neighborhood. He's a bartender at the Sands."

Grissom rubbed his beard and mumbled to himself. "I could arrange to have his legs broken. Let me talk to Brass. He knows people."

"What! Gerard is my friend. He understands me." She stared daggers into him.

"He's too old for you. And he shouldn't be saying things to you…about your body. I don't like him, and you shouldn't even be hanging around with him." It came out more sharply than he intended.

"You can't tell me who my friends are, Uncle Gil."

For a moment, they both sat there, angry, arms folded tightly across their chests. Sara walked by and spied the odd spectacle. "Hi guys. What's going on?"

Lindsay threw her a look of pure venom. "Are you going to gang up on me too?"

"I don't know. Are you arguing the NRA side of a gun control debate? That would be one of the only sure ways I can think of where I would gang up on you."

"Uncle Gil thinks he can tell me who to hang out with." She threw him a look. Grissom felt like he was very much in over his head.

"Really? I bet you told him he couldn't tell you who to pick for friends."

Lindsay nodded.

"She has an adult male named Gerard who is commenting on her body and telling her she should work as a hostess at the Sands." Grissom said with some sense of indignation.

"I see." Sara scooted in between Lindsay and Grissom on the bench. "Linds, why are you doing this to your uncle Gil?"

"What do you mean?" Her innocent blue eyes narrowed again.

"He's not hip. Look at him. Shops out of the Land's End catalogue. And he sees too much to think an adult man, your mom doesn't know, should be hanging out with you. You should know better than this." Sara frowned at her.

"Nobody understands me." She said.

"Honey, a grown man is hanging out with a 13 year old girl because….." She put her arms up in the air.

Lindsay shrugged. "I don't know. He's nice. He listens to me."

"Well, that's important, Linds. But the adults who care about you will try to protect you from guys who want to take advantage."

"He doesn't."

"Lindsay, you are a beautiful girl. There will always be someone out there who will want more than just friendship with you. Do you understand?"

She lowered her head. "I am not beautiful."

Sara elbowed her. "Hey, America's next top model, who are you fooling?"

Lindsay sat quiet for a moment. "How am I ever supposed to know the difference?"

"You don't want to be anybody's fool, right?"

Lindsay nodded.

"Okay. Then tell him you have to focus on school right now, and don't have time to hang out."

Lindsay opened her mouth in protest.

"Listen!" Sara told her, a finger pointed at her face. "If he cares, then he will want you to finish your education. It opens doors, Linds. You can always be a hostess, but being educated gives you options in case you don't want to serve people for the rest of your life. Understand?"

She shrugged.

"People who care about you care about your future. Why do you think your mom fights with you? And Uncle Gil? Ever seen him interested in fighting about something for no reason?"

"I hate rules."

Sara pulled her into a tight hug. "Linds, life sucks. Rules suck. Doesn't get any different when you grow up, you know. We're just used to it is all."

Lindsay hugged her back.

"Linds, hear me now. Gerard has to find friends his own age. I won't let him hang out with you. Your mom won't and Uncle Gil won't. In fact, Uncle Gil and Uncle Jim are going to go looking for him to tell him just that. Be mad if you want. But Gerard needs to stop talking smack with girls your age. Understand?"

Sara!" She complained.

"Forget it, girl. Stop running from the things that blow and suck it up like the rest of us. If you were a mom, you wouldn't let your kid hang out with that sleazoid, and you know it."

"He did try to talk me into some things." She admitted in a small voice.

"What!" Grissom roared.

"Hey Uncle Gil, nobody tells me what to do including Gerard." Lindsay sat up straight.

"All right, girl." Sara gave her a high five. "You stay strong. You promise to do that, and the rest of us will put up with the attitude. I promise."

Lindsay smiled.

"Let's tell Mom how you rocked."

"She's going to be pissed."

"And proud. She raised you to be a fighter. You're just like your mom." Then Sara shrugged. "She's still going to want you to do your homework, you know."

"She's going to freak about this." Lindsay winced.

"Yeah, well, then she won't be the only one. You know how to freak pretty good. Sitting out here acting like you shouldn't do your schoolwork. You could teach a course in bullshit, my friend."

"Let me talk to her first, okay?"

"Sure. Just know that if you don't tell her, I will."

Lindsay nodded. She got up and looked at Sara. "I should be mad at you."

"Me too. Nobody messes with my Lindsay, and I hate that you might not taking care of yourself."

Lindsay smiled. She looked at her mother's office door, took a deep breath, and walked in.

Sara sat on the bench with Grissom, and watched her disappear into her mother's office.

He lifted his head and looked at her. "I have never been more impressed with anyone in my whole life."

Sara's brows rose and she looked at him funny.

"No, I mean it, Sara. You were brilliant. I didn't know what to say and you came over and fixed it like it was nothing."

"I remember a lot about being a kid. It was a very rough time. Lots of memories."

He bit his lower lip and then looked at her again. "You are going to be a great mother."

She looked at him in surprise. "That's probably the best thing you have ever said to me."

He looked down. "I'm sorry that I don't say things to you more."

She cocked her head at him, looking at him quizzically. Then she reached over and kissed him on the cheek in public, in the lab. He didn't pull away from her. Instead, he drank in every sensation he felt as her lips rested on his cheek. She reluctantly pulled away from him. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

"You're one of a kind, Sara Sidle."

"You going looking for this idiot, right?"

He nodded. "Going over to Jim's office now."

"My hero." She whispered as he got up.

Grissom found himself whispering this to himself in his living room watching the documentary channel. He remembered the big smile she flashed when he turned to look at her after her last comment. She was beautiful all the time, but when she smiled, it stunned him. A feeling in the pit of his stomach tugged at him, but he tried to ignore it. There was a new documentary called Small Town Ecstasy running, and he still couldn't fall asleep. His thoughts stayed on that beginning three months ago, when he let himself see her for what she really was. It was a wonderful moment, one where he felt that he had really began to feel the life he wanted to live. He wished he had just left it as it was.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sara picked up her phone and dialed Brass' office number. She waited apprehensively until his machine picked up. She let out a sigh. She still knew his schedule well enough to know that he would be home sleeping right now. A beep sounded and she spoke. "Jim, I am so sorry that you got that call. It's a misunderstanding. I do not want you to worry about this. I didn't understand his signals and thought he called an 'all clear' when he hadn't. Just does things differently than you. I will talk to him. Don't worry. Everything is great. I have a place near Chinatown, and I love my day hours. Marc says that there will be a swing shift supervisor position open in the next year. Life is good. Tell everyone I am happy, and I will talk to folks just as soon as I get settled in a little more. Jim, thanks for your concern. Appreciate it. Take care and we'll talk soon."

She hung up and laid back on her couch. It was noon. She hoped he didn't notice that she called from her cell instead of her office. It would raise questions. She wasn't ready to explain why she was at home in the middle of the day instead of working her wonderful new day hours.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: I am sorry to be so slow with this chapter. I am afraid it is the only I can do the rest of my life and write all at the same time. I want to warn you; we are dealing with flashbacks, people. We are moving in and out of the present and the past. I have chosen to not use obvious symbols as I want my writing to be strong enough to do it without hints. Please let me know if this is working for you. Thanks to the many people who took the time to comment on the first chapter. This is a story that won't lay out answers for some time to come. Thanks for taking time to enjoy this with me.

Sheila

**Chapter 2**

**Hope Springs**

She sat outside his office hunched over, doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone who walked by. One foot tapped nervously on the floor, beating out a rhythm that no musician could follow. A hand touched her shoulder gently and she jumped back. A blonde man in a tailored suit stepped back in surprise.

"Shit, Matthew!" She ran her shaky fingers through her hair.

"Sweetie, what is wrong?" He sat down in the chair beside her.

"I am waiting for Marc."

"In the doghouse, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't act like you don't know."

"Honey, Marc is my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I get the skinny on everything that goes on here."

"I screwed up, Matthew. I'll be lucky if I keep my job."

Matthew scrunched up his face. "Okay. Truth. I know. Marc was really freaking out about it last night. I'm here for moral support."

"For me or Marc?"

"Marc has known you since you were undergrads. You have no idea how excited he has been about having you back in San Francisco. You're family, Sara. I'm here for both of you."

Sara patted his knee. "I'm back two months and already my job is in jeopardy. What are the odds?"

"That's a good question." A handsome man with caramel colored skin and a close cut 'fro spoke from the doorway. He leaned against the door frame. "Another good question is why my partner is here in the middle of the day when he should be in court prosecuting cases for the city."

"Was just worried about you, both of you." Matthew grinned sheepishly.

"So?" Sara swallowed hard as she asked.

"Well, I just spent 45 minutes on the phone with the chief of homicide. I assured him that you would never do something like that again. I also assured him that you would be happy to go through SFPD safety training."

"But—" Sara said.

He put a hand up. "And I told him that you would work only in the lab until that training was completed."

"You're kidding. I am taking an intro class with the new recruits. Do you know how many years I have been doing this?"

Marc shook his head. "Don't even start, Sara. You ignored orders and you almost got killed. By all rights, you should be on your way to the unemployment office right now. I fought hard for you so I expect that you will suck it up and fight hard to make this work."

Looking down at her lap, she nodded.

"Yes!" Matthew said, pumping his hand into the air. "Let's celebrate. I'm taking you both out tonight. Fisherman's Wharf. I'll call Manny and have him put his best sea bass on ice for you, Sara."

Sara looked at Marc. "I'm going to be processing samples?"

He shook his head. "You're a great scientist, Sara, but you're an even greater investigator. I'm giving you some cases. All of them unsolved. I need a fresh eye, a fresh perspective. I want you to take a look; maybe you'll see something we didn't."

"You want me to look at cold cases?"

"Yeah, I do. These are the cases that keep me up at night. And there is nobody I trust with them than you."

Sara got up. "The files?"

"Already on your desk."

Matthew stood up, arms outstretched. "Hello! Sea bass. Fisherman's wharf."

Sara leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Not tonight, Matt. I want to take a look at this."

"I rescheduled cases for this." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Promise me that you're not going to sit at home and think about Dr. Mung Beetle all evening."

Sara looked away.

Marc walked over and stood in front of him arms crossed. "Ah, a night on the town, and nobody to go with except the love of your life. Matthew, what will you do?"

Matthew grinned. "I guess I will have to settle for romance."

They stood for a moment, smiling at one another. Sara envied their bond. Ten years together as partners and friends. They were as comfortable with one another as an old pair of shoes yet still were capable of intriguing and challenging each other. She felt a pang in her gut thinking of this elusive thing, this connection; this idea of having someone who shares their life and their soul with you. She wondered if anyone had ever woken up and got excited at the thought of seeing her.

Marc noticed her silence. "You sure you don't want to come?"

She gave him a lazy smile. "No. You gave me a puzzle my friend. I want nothing more than to sit down and look at the pieces."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A sub wrapped in white paper was set down in front of him. Grissom stared at it, oblivious to the person in front of him. He reached to it, and ran his fingers over the white paper. Then he drew his hand away and sat back. Catherine sat across from him. "You okay?"

He didn't answer.

"You didn't eat at lunch. I thought I would pick up a sub for you on my way back."

Grissom blinked rapidly and looked at her. "I'm sorry, Cath. Thank you. It was very thoughtful of you."

"What are you thinking about?" Catherine took a bite of her own sandwich, looking puzzled.

"Nothing." He attempted a thin grin.

"The sandwich doesn't bite, you know."

He made a half-hearted attempt to pull apart the paper. Then he looked up at her. "I guess I am not as hungry as I thought."

She flipped her hair. "You didn't eat."

"I did actually. Had an apple. Other stuff. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He gestured with his head. "Why don't you see if one of the guys is hungry?"

She raised her brows, but took the sandwich and got up. "Okay."

He swallowed. "Thanks though. Thanks a lot."

She shook her head and left him alone in the break room. He picked up his pen and returned to the notes he was making in a file. Thoughts barraged him, but he set his mouth grimly and continued. A few minutes later, he slammed his pen down in frustration. Two sentences were his total output, and neither sentence made any sense.

He reached under his glasses to the bridge of his nose and rubbed his tired eyes. The hint of a throbbing ache began at his temples and he sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his muscles. He knew that it was probably too late to slow down this migraine. He folded his arms across his chest and let his chin rest forward. Meditating sometimes helped ease the progression of the pain. He used guided imagery to block out the noise and movement around him. His thoughts kept going back to the sandwich, and finally he let himself remember.

It was about a week after his Uncle Gil moment with Lindsay. Sara had walked to the break room with a bag and flashed him a big smile. He found himself grinning in return. Life around Sara had taken a turn for the better of late, and it relieved him greatly.

She pulled a sandwich out of her bag and set it in front of him. He looked up, confused.

"I hear you and Jim visited Gerard at the Sands yesterday."

He nodded.

She pushed the sandwich toward him and sat across from him. "Tell me about it."

"What's this?" He couldn't stifle his grin.

"Your reward for being such a good guy for Catherine and Lindsay."

He began to unwrap the sandwich. She reached over and grabbed his wrist. "Tell me first."

He found himself wanting nothing more than to please her. "Well, you know Catherine wanted to go."

Sara's eyes widened. "I know. She was apoplectic after Lindsay told her. I mean the idiot never actually touched her, but Catherine is every inch a mother bear. There was no way she was going to let this situation go unaddressed."

He leaned forward a little as if to contribute to the conspiratorial nature of the conversation. "So Jim and I talked to her, and we told her that this would go better if we went at this from a position of law rather than anger. And she said she could handle it, and we said, great but she should focus on Lindsay, and it would be good for her to not be the bad guy. That convinced her."

"So then you went to visit Gerard." She prompted.

"Yeah, we caught him at the Sands. Brass went into his whole tough cop routine. Threatened him with prosecution that isn't even on the books. Scared him pretty good."

"And what did you do?"

Grissom scratched the back of his neck a little and looked away.

"Oh no, you don't. I want to know."

"I told him that I would pay to have him beat within an inch of his life if he ever talked to Lindsay again."

"You would pay?"

"Well, I figured that telling him that I was going to kick his ass wasn't going to carry much weight. I don't imagine that I look too scary."

"You could have fooled Greg."

He let out a throaty laugh, surprising both of them. She joined in, and began to unwrap her sandwich. He took that as his cue and he unwrapped his. He smiled when he saw that she got him a nice roast beef sandwich, his favorite. He took a bite and savored the rich flavor of the beef and caramelized onions and what was undoubtedly brie cheese. "This is good, Sara."

She smiled. "I thought you might like it."

"Where did you get it?"

"A little place called Humperdink's. Right off the strip."

He stopped right before he took another bite. "Humperdink's. Like the little sandwich shop in Berkeley?"

"Yeah. The owner's daughter moved down here, and opened one about six months ago."

"I remember Humperdink's. Said that sandwich was the best I had ever had." Grissom seemed distracted.

"I know. I took you there after that week long seminar you taught. Remember?" She studied him carefully.

"You hassled me through the entire course. Dr. Grissom, tell us more about this. Dr. Grissom, how does this variable explain this." He rolled his eyes.

She grinned. "I must have grown on you."

"When you invited me out to dinner, I thought we were going to a sit down place with menus."

"Instead, we sat on the grass and ate humongous sandwiches and drank homemade root beer."

"One of the best meals I ever had."

They grew quiet for a moment, each playing with the heaping sandwich in front of them. Finally Sara sighed. "It was a good day."

Grissom worried his lips with his teeth. "It lasted all night."

Sara blinked. "I never thought I would ever hear you speak of it."

"I probably shouldn't. We're at work." He glanced around him, but the lab was pretty quiet at four in the morning."

"Why did you?"

He shrugged. "It happened. You and I slept together that night."

"Grissom, we haven't talked about this in 8 years."

"In the morning, when I woke up, I looked over at you, and realized, in a panic, that I liked you too much to lose you to a relationship."

She smirked. "So you promptly declared that it would never happen again."

"And have you screaming at me in three months because I wasn't fulfilling your emotional needs? You bet I did." Grissom wiped a piece of lettuce off his beard.

"It was confusing for me. I felt like a one night stand."

"I'm sorry about that. I'm not good at expressing myself as you well know. I'm just glad that you are still in my life. Makes me think I did something right."

"This satisfies you?" She pointed at herself and then him.

"It feels safe, I guess." He began to wrap up the remaining half of the sandwich. "It feels like all I can afford sometimes."

She sat back and looked at him. "I don't know what to make of you, lately."

"Do you ever look back on your life and find yourself puzzled by some of the choices that you made?"

"Uh, no."

"I do."

"Going to illuminate me on what you have discovered?"

He let out a deep breath. "Okay. I like having you around, and yet, I have maneuvered it such that we spend an inordinate amount of time unhappy with one another. And I guess I am wondering what the point of all of this is."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "What would have happened if I had never backed away? What if it had worked? What if…?" He licked his lips and grew silent.

"Wow! Talk about your mid-life crisis." She got up and stepped away from the table, hands on her hips, and began to pace.

He dropped his face into his hands, breathed in deeply, and looked up, folding his hands under his chin. "Probably shouldn't have said anything."

She stopped her pacing to point at him. "Wrong answer!"

He watched her walk back and forth in front of him, glaring at him as she moved. "This is not going well."

She snorted. "You think?"

"I'm sorry. I've opened old wounds…for both of us."

She stopped and stared at him, arms folded. "They were never closed, Grissom."

"Yeah." He looked down at the table.

"Hey, Gil Grissom! Do you want me?" Her brown eyes snapped with energy. Jackie out in the hall stopped dead. She caught the looks on her colleagues' faces and moved on quickly.

"Yes…I think that I—"

"You think!" She threw her arms up. "Stop thinking! Thinking is not feeling. Do you understand that?"

He closed his eyes and sat back. He began to say something, but stopped before he got a word out. He bit his upper lip as if considering his next move.

"Grissom, talk to me!"

He snapped his head forward and met her eyes. "I want you. I feel… a great deal for you."

She stepped backward, her mouth open. For a moment, they stood like this in total silence.

He swallowed. "Um, how are you doing, Sara?"

She blinked at him. "I don't know."

"How would you feel if I asked you out on a date?"

"I…I…I should get back to work." She gathered up her files and left the room before he could think of a response.

A sharp pain brought him back to reality. He realized he should have taken Catherine's sandwich. Eating would probably help stave off the migraine that had angrily settled into his head. He opened his eyes and saw that it was only midnight. He had 7 more hours of this mind numbing pain before he could go home and knock himself out with pain pills and Trazadone. Grissom got up slowly and went in search of some Tylenol.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She found a corner of the lab that was quiet. The files Marc left were almost more than she could carry. As carefully as she could, she slid them onto the table. She placed a legal pad and pen beside them. She picked up the first file and began to read. She kept the pen in her hand, taking meticulous notes on everything of importance in the file.

Some time early in the morning, she found the file of baby Doe. A girl estimated at four years old who was still unidentified in the city morgue. Sara felt anger fill the pit of her stomach as she read the trials this child had endured. The idea that this four year old girl lay alone in the morgue with no family to put her to rest left her empty and frightened.

She picked up the file and walked down to the coroner's office. This lab was set up quite different than Doc Robins' arena. It was just as sterile but there was none of the open learning that the Doc offered. Here a young man with a crew cut nervously told her that he didn't allow visitation at this time of the morning. Sara told him who she was, and asked to see baby Doe number 39. He seemed reluctant to do that. "Under what auspices, then." He asked with a stern face.

She frowned. "I am a CSI 3 with San Francisco. What more do you need?"

He was impossibly skinny and awkward. She was reminded of Greg in the first days she knew him. "People been looking at her, but they don't do anything else."

"I can't promise you anything, but I want to look at her and I care."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Anybody can say anything when they come in here."

"Is your supervisor around?" Sara asked.

"No, she works day shift. I work night shift. Assistant coroner works in between. You missed both of them."

"And your name?"

"Thomas."

"I need to see the child." Sara stared at him with a steady gaze.

He led her to a drawer in the corner. He pulled it out to reveal a long, gauzy bag. She stepped beside him and stayed quiet while he undid the strings to her bag. The remains of a small child emerged and she steeled herself for the sight of the child in a state of advanced decomposition. The child had been sitting in the drawer for almost six months. She took her time, carefully examining the body from all different angles, jotting down notes in her small, precise handwriting. Finally, she stepped away and let Thomas close the drawer. He was careful about this as if he didn't want to startle the little girl with an abrupt noise as the door closed. Sara felt herself softening towards the awkward young man. She appreciated people who didn't treat corpses as if they were never human.

She thanked him and left the room. In San Francisco, the morgue sat at the end of the building so she had something of a trek to get back at the lab. Her thoughts began to turn to memories of the last few months, and she fought to bury them again, telling herself to stay focused on work. She felt the heaviness grow in the pit of her stomach and knew she was fighting a losing battle. Her eyes stung and she slipped into an employee bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she sat down and held her arms tightly around her middle. She choked out sobs desperate for release, and rocked back and forth anxiously waiting for the pain to pass.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Grissom got home by 9 a.m. He pulled his jacket off and dropped it on the couch. The pounding in his head had become a heavy metal cacophony of pain. He pulled a bottle of pills out of the cupboard and a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. He started back to the couch when he remembered to check his machine. Since she left, he checked his machine every morning when he got home. There was a sole message blinking on the screen. His heart skipped a beat, and he hit the button. The message began and he heard the voice of the assistant district attorney, "Grissom, the grand jury is rescheduled for 1 p.m. today. I know, I know. You worked all night, but we didn't have any choice. I am going to need you to be down at the courthouse by noon. I'm a jerk. I know. We rescheduled and I forgot to have my girl call you last week. I owe you, Grissom. No doubt about it. I'm taking you out for happy hour right after the hearing. You pick the place."

Grissom pulled off his glasses sharply, and let loose with a few expletives. He put the pills back in the cupboard and slammed the door. Rubbing his eyes, he walked over to the couch. He was only going to be able to rest a couple of hours, and taking any kind of medication was out of the question. Grissom stretched out on the couch fully clothed and closed his eyes. Every few moments the pain came sharply and he found it impossible to fully relax.

Anger swelled up in him, but it wasn't focused on the ADA. The ADA was a jerk, but this was nothing new. Last minute changes were all a part of that thoughtless man's routine. The hearing was important. Eric Rogers was being indicted for the murder of Julianne Phillips, and Grissom felt every bit as responsible for her death as Eric Rogers.

He closed his eyes but could see her face clearly; a young woman, rape victim, terrified, staring at him as if she was drowning and he held the only life vest. It made him uncomfortable, but he didn't look away. Her boyfriend had beat and raped her, threatened to kill her if she told anyone, and yet she was at the hospital begging for help. Normally, this interview would have been a job for Sara, but she was already on the scene with another case. He had almost considered calling her away, but knew that his challenges could not be ignored. He quietly retrieved samples for the evidentiary, and then sat down to listen. The boyfriend has been terrorizing her for six months. She tried to leave, but he was always there, beating her, threatening her daughter's life. She talked of running to shelters or hiding at friend's, but these solutions were only temporary. He always seemed to know where to find her or he would wait at her work. She couldn't hide in the stale, stark rooms of a shelter forever. Beaten and worn, she confessed that she would have given up fighting long ago if it wasn't for her three year old child.

Grissom assured her that he had retrieved some very promising samples and that detectives were out looking for Rogers at this very moment. She seemed relieved and lay back on the hospital bed. Her daughter was with friends, and the hospital wanted to keep her due to a possible concussion. He packed up his things and left. While he tried to keep focused on the case, his thoughts kept going back to the conversation he had with Sara the week previous. Confessing his feelings as best he could, her reaction, agitation, and then her walking out at the suggestion of a date. It hurt him more than he had ever imagined possible, and he had given her as much space as possible in the ensuing days. As usual, his avoidance left her sullen and frustrated. He wished he knew how to undo his confession. The discomfort of a repressed relationship had to be better than this torture.

A call to a crime scene Greg was working sidetracked him for a couple of hours, but he finally got to the lab. He was glad to go indoors as the heat was excruciating in the low 100's. He reached over to remove the samples from the cooler that kept them fresh. To his horror, the cooler was empty. He looked wildly around the back of the SUV, and found his sample kit sitting there next to the cooler. He hadn't remembered to put the samples in the cooler. In twenty years of forensic work, he had never made such an egregious error. Anxiously, he grabbed the kit and ran into the lab, praying that the two hours in the sweltering heat of the hot car had killed his evidence. Without a word to anyone, he dug samples out and put them in the refrigerator. He decided he would leave them there for the next hour before checking them. For most of that hour, he paced angrily back and forth, cursing his negligence and the personal distractions he allowed himself.

When he pulled the samples out and tested them, he found that almost all of them were compromised. He would have to testify to this in court if he tried to use these samples. He had been meticulous in his evidentiary and just prayed that she still bore evidence of the attack. The idea that she would have to endure another intrusive exam filled him with rage. This time, he called Sara and gruffly told her to get down to Desert Palms and do the exam. She tried to argue with him, but he sharply told her what he had done and hung up.

Brass found Rogers and held him in custody. Together, Grissom and Brass did everything they could to elicit a confession, but the man was cold and remorseless. Sara brought samples back, but they were no where near as damning as what Grissom had especially since she had showered for an hour after Grissom left. Despite all their best efforts, Rogers got bail three days after the attack. Julianne Phillips was found dead a week later, her neck and three other bones broken. Grissom insisted on taking the scene. He spent hours collecting the minutest samples, and had Catherine and Warrick process them simultaneously. Two shifts later, Grissom finally went home, buying a cheap bottle of scotch on the way. He was on his fourth double when Sara showed up with a pizza and a 12 pack of beer. Even drunk, he was reluctant to let her in, but she ignored him and brushed past him. She told him many things about the humanity of mistakes. She reminded that their most recent fight had probably left him distracted. She made him eat pizza and he realized that he had probably not eaten in two days. She poured him glasses of scotch and matched it with her bottles of beer. She spoke to him in low, urgent tones about how much she needed him, and how much he needed her. Then the memories started to float in and out regarding that night, the only thing certain was that the two of them had engaged in their second one night stand in eight years.

Grissom fought sleep as he waited until it was time to get up and shower for the hearing. He would testify today primarily about his interview with her. On the stand, he would have to recount every haunting word she had said to him in the hospital a mere ten weeks ago. The pain settled into his head like a permanent fixture, and he wondered if he would have time for any sort of decent sleep after the hearing.

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TBC


	3. chapter 3

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: I got this chapter done early. I thank everyone who is still reading. The flashbacks do not seem to be working for people. But I am really feeling okay about this because I have gotten sort of intrigued with this story and I am curious to see what will happen. I really have no idea which is probably not the best strategy for a writer. Anyway, I think you all rock for reading, and I love hearing from you.

Sheila

**Chapter 3**

**Hope Springs**

Sara leaned away from the toilet bowl. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and pulled herself up to her feet. She turned the sink on cold, and splashed her face. Holding a towel to her face, she went back to lie down on her bed. It had been almost five weeks of this. Nausea, exhaustion, and a loss of appetite had plagued her since she left Vegas. At first, she chalked it up to stress. A nervous stomach has long been her reaction to stress. She had begun to worry as it plagued her week after week. She wondered about depression. It had always plagued her to some degree, but she had always stayed so busy and active that she was able to stave off a need for medication.

Sara was very aware that she was mimicking signs of a first trimester pregnancy. It was exactly ten weeks earlier that she had stumbled out of his townhouse and out of his life. She remembered enough to know that their clumsy, drunken fumblings had culminated in intercourse, but she never told him. It was one moment; one hungry, sloppy moment of hard fought passion between two people who had checked their brains in the bottom of a liquor bottle. Pregnancy as an option always plagued the back of her mind, but it never made sense. Plus, she continued to have the sporadic bleeding that generally characterized her periods.

In an effort to quell her nausea, she rolled over onto her stomach, burying her head in her arms. The whole idea of pregnancy resulting from that night was terrifying. Bad judgment sent her over to his place with pizza and alcohol to help him drown his pain. She knew that he would probably never forgive himself the destroyed evidence. It was any CSI's nightmare; poor collection or processing resulting in a failed conviction and in Julianne Phillip's case, her death.

Brass had done everything he could to provide Julianne with safe shelter. He had squads keeping tabs on Rogers, but, in the end, nothing kept her from making the same safety errors she always had, and when she did, he was there, waiting.

Grissom had almost refused to let her in his home when she showed up with a twelve pack and large double anchovy extra cheese. She had to push past him to get in. Over and over, she told herself that he shouldn't be alone, and that she was the only one who would understand. So she was patient when he was sullen and non-communicative to her. She didn't argue with him when he wanted another drink. She had worked on Julianne's case too so she matched his scotch with longnecks. They sat in his leather chairs and talked. She didn't remember much of what they said. Mostly, they rehashed the self-loathing they had saddled themselves with over the years. He brought up the conversation that ended with his revealing feelings, and they argued. She remembered the arguing, most of it. She told him that he was controlling and clueless. He told her that she had been rude and heartless. Inhibitions gone, it didn't take much before she was in his face, pointing fingers. Then he grabbed her finger, and she was on top of him. There were no boundaries to stop them. Kissing, touching, grabbing; 8 years of pent up desire erupted. Her memories collided with the base nature of the moment. They said nothing to one another. Instead they focused on need. Sara woke up in the middle of the night in his bed, hopelessly twisted in a bed sheet. He laid beside her, naked, half off the bed, snoring loudly.

In the morning when she woke again, he was gone. Wrapping the sheet tightly around her torso, she dragged her heavy head into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She could barely focus her blurry eyes as she stumbled into the living room. A pair of bikini underwear with Spongebob Squarepants lay on top of the recliner and she groaned, swiping it up and stuffing it under the bed sheet. Lightheaded and hungover, she carefully surveyed the rest of the room, looking for the rest of her clothing. She found her bra on the kitchen floor and her t-shirt under the coffee table. Somehow, her jeans eluded capture, and she struggled to remember where she shed them. The door behind her opened and Grissom emerged. His hair was wild and tousled, and he wore pajama bottoms. He looked at her out of the slits of his puffy eyes. He tossed her jeans to her. "You spilt beer on them. I ran them through the wash."

She turned and shuffled back into his bedroom, shutting the door soundly. When she returned, he had found a t-shirt to wear over the bottoms and he was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a cup of coffee. He pointed a steaming cup already on the table for her. She slumped down in the chair, careful to avoid his gaze.

Minutes passed, and they sat quietly seeking solace in their cups of coffee. Finally Grissom lifted his head. "I don't know what to say, Sara. I was drunk. I am sorry."

She had been expecting this, but couldn't stem the anger rising up in her. "I didn't expect this either." She mumbled.

"I know." He sighed. "It seems that we're destined to screw this up."

She looked away, struggling to keep her frustration in check.

"Do you remember everything?" He asked gently.

She shook her head and stared down into her cup.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair. "We didn't…or did we? I…suspect that I might not have been up to the task."

She didn't know what to say. Impatiently, she rubbed at a tear sliding down her cheek.

"God, what's wrong with me?" He growled. "I screw up an investigation and get a woman killed and now this."

She swallowed hard and sat there, unable to move.

"Sara, I have never for a moment wanted to hurt you; especially not you. You have already been through so much this year with the suspension and issues from your past."

"I'm not your child, Grissom!" Her words came hard and low.

"Sara, I'm not trying to—"

"Listen Grissom, you are not responsible for everything that happens in this world."

"Sara, I screwed up. That woman is dead because of me. I forgot to put those samples in the cooler because I was thinking about you."

"You were thinking of me?"

"Yeah. I was. I let my personal emotions invade my work."

"And you must never let that happen again." She said softly

"I can't afford it."

She nodded slowly. "I almost believed we were going to get it right this time."

Grissom let out a big breath. "I'm not in a position to give much of anything right now."

"Yeah, I can see that." She pushed her chair back and got up. "I think we would both be happier right now if we weren't in the same space."

She waited for a reply, but got silence. So she turned and left him alone in his townhouse. Bright sun terrorized her when she opened the front door, but she kept going, keeping her sobs as quiet as possible until she got to her car.

Sara's nausea passed and she pulled herself to a sitting position in her bed. Her new apartment was small. Housing prices in San Francisco were ridiculous, but from her window, she had a view of the Golden Gate. She pulled the curtain back and raised the window. She let the cool air drift in and let it wash over her. She shivered in response, but left the window open, exposing herself to the sensation of loneliness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grissom walked stiffly back to his seat in the courtroom. His testimony had been long. He had recounted every last moment of conversation he had shared with Julianne. Rogers' defense attorney had cross examined him roughly, focused on his ruined samples, suggesting that he had reason to shift attention away from his mistake. Grissom responded dispassionately, unfazed by the man's allegations.

He settled into a seat near the back next to Jim Brass. Jim gave him a nod and then returned his concentration to the proceedings. The incessant throb of his migraine plagued him, but he had stopped fighting it. He let the pain become part of him. Grissom focused his attention on Rogers who fidgeted in his seat next to his attorney. He was a wiry, dark haired man who wore his suit as if it were trying to choke him. His attorney kept thwarting his efforts to take off the jacket or roll up the sleeves. Rogers had a hard time focusing on testimony. He spent a good deal of time craning his head to get a look at the people behind him. Grissom was angry that he had allowed an idiot like this get away with so much.

A tired woman in her late 50's sat across the aisle from him. He recognized her as Julianne's mother. He remembered her wails of grief down in the morgue. A small child sat next to her, squirming in and out of her lap. With a start, he realized that this was probably Julianne's baby. He searched his memory for her name, but could only remember that it started with an L. He wondered why she would bring such a small child to such grim surroundings. A wave of nausea hit and he closed his eyes for a few moments in an effort to settle himself.

Jim touched his arm and told him that the judge had adjourned the proceedings for the day. Startled, Grissom looked around to see people slowly getting up and filing out of the room. Julianne's mother got up and came their direction. She looked worn beyond her years. He remembered Brass telling him that she was a longtime alcoholic, and that Julianne spent most of her childhood in foster care.

Grissom felt compelled to say something to her, an effort to assuage his guilt. He stood up and walked toward her. "Mrs. Phillips. I don't know if you would remember me. My name is Gil Grissom."

She gave him a thin smile. "I just spent two hours listening to you talk about how you screwed up my daughter's case. I doubt that I will ever forget you."

Shame flooded through his body and left him paralyzed. Jim stepped up beside him. "Is this Julianne's little girl?"

The woman looked down at the child she was holding tightly by her arm. "This is Lucy Bell."

The child had light mocha skin and piercing blue eyes. Her dusty brown hair was tied into knots around her head. A few kinky tendrils escaped giving her something of a wild look.

"You taking care of her?" Brass asked.

The woman shrugged. "Lucy's father was never in the picture. Don't know his family either. My own kids are more screwed up than I am."

"Perhaps, social services would be able to place her."

Mrs. Phillips screwed up her face. "They raised all my kids, and did a damn poor job. I'm not moving that direction. I'm not much but I am kin."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Grissom's voice surprised them all.

"You want to raise her? Seems like you should, you know."

Grissom rubbed his forehead and looked away.

"Mistakes happen, Mrs. Phillips. Rogers is only here today because of Dr. Grissom's work." Brass said.

"Look, Julianne was playing a risky game. The girl was always this way. She's just as responsible for what happened as anyone. But I am not interested in being part of your penance. This child needs a lot. You want to give me money to take care of her? Great. But I gotta warn you. I get just enough right now to live on, but not enough to drink myself to death. So be careful of asking too much of me. I'm not making any kind of promises about what kind of life I can give her."

"Mrs. Phillips, we're not offering to raise your granddaughter. And I don't see anyone with a checkbook out. But maybe there are resources that we can help you with. Here's my card. If there is something you can think of, please call me." Brass took over the conversation. He gave her the card and physically steered Grissom away from her. Taking his arm, he pulled him toward the parking lot.

"How about some dinner, Grissom?"

"I still haven't slept. I should probably get a couple of hours before I go in."

"You're not going in, Grissom. I talked to Ecklie."

Grissom stopped and creased his brow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're tired. He knew you were going to be in court most of the afternoon. Clearly you have a migraine…and a couple of job applicants are going to shadow Sophia tonight."

Grissom snorted. "I'm past that. He can hire in peace."

"You could use the night off. Come on. I'm buying. You need to eat before you sleep." Without waiting for an answer, Brass pushed him toward his car.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sara and Thomas named her Hope. When Sara came to see her next, Thomas had wrapped a teddy bear in plastic tightly to protect Hope from contamination, and put it in the drawer with her. It was clearly a breach of protocol, but Sara found that she was touched. They both knew that no one else was looking in that drawer so the teddy bear stayed.

After going through the files carefully, Sara was able to kick back some of them to the original investigators for follow-up. Hope she kept. Abandoned by the side of the road, malnourished, abused sexually and physically, Sara felt a deep anger for this child's life and death. For Sara, an inevitable need to avenge her death took hold, and she protected the case fiercely.

Marc found her in a quiet corner; the only light a small table lamp, furiously scribbling pages of notes on the case. He leaned over to see what she was working on, and then stood back, letting out a deep sigh. "Not going to stop until you find her justice, are you?"

She looked up. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Your ability to be so single minded has always amazed me." He sat down in a chair across from her. "If I ever kill someone, I'll make sure it is outside of your jurisdiction."

She smiled. "Don't worry, Marc. All of my close friends get a pass on their first murder."

"Sometimes you worry me. You work so hard. I'm always having to tell you to go home. You feel so much. You throw up when I bring you mock duck lo mein, and refuse to listen to me when I tell you to go to the doctor."

She put her pen down and looked at him. "I'm not pregnant, Marc."

"Great!" He clapped his hands. "So I'll get an over the counter test just to confirm that so that I can begin sleeping at night."

"No!"

"Did you think you were pregnant when that suspect pulled a gun on you, told you to get on the floor, and you refused to comply?" He looked at her intensely.

She swallowed hard and her eyes couldn't meet his.

"Sara, answer me."

"He was going to take evidence away from me. He was going to destroy my samples."

"He was going to destroy you. I don't care if you had the Green River Killer's taped confession in your hands. A man with a gun asks you to do something and you do it, Sara."

"I'm mixed up right now. I don't know if I am angry, sad, scared or what half the time. I think I am all of those things simultaneously, and it makes it hard." She nervously played with the pen in her hand.

"And I can't put you out there again until you understand what's going on inside you?"

She nodded, staring down at the pen as she twirled it around her fingers.

"Sara, did you care what would happen to you? Did you care that he was going to shoot you?"

He sat for a while waiting for a response, but she sat there silently, unable to look up at him. Finally he got up and walked around the table. He stroked the back of her hair and then hugged her around her neck and whispered in her ear. "Sara, I will always remember that you loved me when I was just a geeky kid in the physics department. We did everything together. Studied. Took classes. You were always smarter." He chuckled. "We chased the same boys. You stayed with me all night after I told my parents I was gay and my mom told me I would burn in hell. You were there when I met Matthew. And you were there when my mom decided to come visit me and learn for herself what my life was all about. And there was a time that I wouldn't have laid down either if a man was pointing a gun in my face. But I was lucky because I had you there. So now you have me, Sara. And I'm going to be there until you feel strong again." He lingered for another moment, and then gently let go. She watched him walk away. The pen slipped from her shaking fingers.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Do you need me to cut your meat for you?" Brass asked as he watched Grissom push a piece of top sirloin around on his plate.

Grissom ignored him, switching his attention to the mashed potatoes.

"Why don't you tell me about what's going on?"

Grissom lifted an eyebrow. "I'm tired. I have a migraine. And you won't leave me alone."

Elbows on the table, Brass pointed his fork at Grissom. "Tell me what happened with Sara."

"No." Grissom took a sip of his scotch.

"Gil, do you know how many friends you have?"

Grissom shrugged.

"Well, I'll tell you. You don't have many."

Grissom sighed. "And the point of this?"

"I am your friend. You are supposed to share information with me. I am supposed to give you bad advice.

You aren't holding up your part of the deal." Brass pulled his napkin out of his collar and dropped it on his plate.

"Jim, I don't need any advice. There is nothing to be done."

Brass folded his arms across his chest and relaxed.

"What?" Grissom said, dropping his knife onto his plate.

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."

Grissom arched an eyebrow. "You know something?"

Brass grinned. "Got your attention, didn't I?"

"Tell me."

"Once again, you are not understanding the reciprocal nature of this relationship." Brass reached over and sipped his beer.

Grissom licked his lips. "All right. I gave Sara the idea that I was thinking about her in a personal way. When Julianne Phillips died, she reached out to me, and I didn't handle it well."

Brass shook his head. "Somehow I suspect that it was a little less civilized than you make it sound, but it's a start."

Grissom leaned forward. "I heard you were looking for Sara's number the other day. I heard you were pretty upset. What's going on?"

"I got a call from a friend in the department up in San Francisco. He was pretty heated about an incident involving at a crime scene. Needed to find out what he was dealing with."

"What happened?"

"She was lifting finger prints from a paperweight at a scene. Officers were questioning family members in the room. She picked up the paperweight, saying to the lieutenant that it was probably the murder weapon, and the dead man's brother reacted. He pulled a gun."

"You're kidding?"

"Desperate people are idiots. What can I say?"

"He trained the gun on Sara and told her to give him the paperweight. And she wouldn't."

Grissom's mouth dropped.

"She stood there, talking to him as if she was having a conversation with him. He got agitated. Detectives were trying to control the situation, guns drawn, yelling at her to give him the paperweight. But she didn't."

Grissom shook his head. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Officers had to take him from behind. It was a risk. He still had the gun pointed at her. They got him. Sara was okay, but she was suspended, and they aren't going to let her back into the field until she retakes the recruit safety class."

"Why would she do this? I don't understand."

"I tried to talk to her, but she's avoiding me. I think she's going to need more than I can offer."

"I don't know what to do. What should I do?" Grissom took his glasses off and looked at Jim.

"Now you are starting to understand this friendship thing."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

TBC


	4. chapter 4

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: This story is taking me for a ride. Whatever I plan to do always seems to be interrupted, but surprisingly Ifind that I think these alternatives are things I think our characters would prefer to do. It's a long chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Just when I was thinking that only a few people were reading, I learned that there were more people signed on than I thought. Thanks for this. Your comments, critical or complimentary, are appreciated. Thanks.

Sheila

**Chapter 4**

**Hope Springs **

Grissom placed the pills on the counter in front of him. It was all he could do not to take them. He put a glass of water down beside them. Relief would have to wait. Instead he picked up his phone and punched in a number he knew very well. After one ring, a voice came on and said that this number had been disconnected and no other forwarding information was available. He tried it again, and again; getting the same result every time.

His fingers trembled in his frustration. He clenched the phone tightly in an effort not to throw it at the wall. He lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. The sick pounding gripped him, and left him trapped within himself. Sleep would not happen without the pills. Nor would it happen without some contact with her; some assurance that she was taking care of herself.

He picked up the phone again, and called directory assistance. Her cell would not be there, but the San Fransisco crime lab would be. The receptionist at the lab said she wasn't there. Grissom asked for a home number. She indicated that policy forbade giving out home numbers. He insisted. She reiterated lab policy. He sighed and asked if Marc Capistrant was around. A long wait ensued, but finally he got a voice.

"Hello?"

"Is this Marc Capistrant?"

"Yes."

"Gil Grissom, Las Vegas crime lab."

There was a short pause. "Dr. Grissom."

"You took my seminar a few times."

"It is required for all of my CSI's. You do a wonderful job of translating the passion of the science."

"Thanks. Listen I am looking for one of your employees, Sara Sidle."

"She is not here right now, Dr. Grissom."

Grissom detected a reticence in Marc's voice. "It's important that I talk to her."

"Have you tried her cell?"

"It's disconnected."

"I wish I could help you."

The stiffness in his voice led Grissom to believe that he wished anything but. "Look, I am not trying to get her back if that's what you are worried about. I just want to know that she is okay. We haven't heard from her, and…I hear that she had something of a rocky start there. I…just want to talk to her."

A long silence. "Dr. Grissom, I appreciate your concern, but I am not able to give you her number. Just know that she is doing…fine. She is in a place where she can rebuild her confidence and focus on living a healthy life with healthy relationships."

Grissom remembered that Capistrant was a long time friend of Sara's. "Could you at least tell her that I called?"

A heavy sigh translated over the phone. "Her time with you really took a toll. If you want to help her, I wouldn't suggest insinuating yourself into her life every time you feel like it. It's confusing especially when there is nothing behind it except your own immediate needs."

Grissom was struck by the sharp words of this relative stranger. "Marc, I care about her. I doubt even she would say otherwise."

"I don't give out employee numbers." The voice was flat.

Grissom sighed. "Please tell her that I called and that I just want to hear that she is all right."

"Even if it holds her back, keeps her focused on you?"

Grissom closed his eyes. "Please."

"I'll see what I can do. Good-bye, Dr. Grissom." Grissom heard a click. He felt a well of exhaustion rise up in him. There was so much anger in him, all of it directed inward. He never meant to be this person who hurt others. Everything in his life had been about using his immense talents to serve others. Working as a CSI was not the most lucrative path available to him, but it provided the most fascination and satisfaction. His mother had always been taught to be kind and respectful, and yet, somehow all his efforts had brought him to this moment when his actions were bringing tremendous pain to others. It was again, yet another justification for hiding within himself, away from the fragile structures of an emotional world.

With great effort, he was able to pull himself to his feet. He reached for the medication and hesitated. Adding another Trazadone promised even more rest. He considered it for a moment, and then decided that overmedicating himself was not a direction he wanted to go.

Air conditioner on, shades drawn, dressed only in his boxers, he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. He let himself drift away in a medicated fog, hoping to stay there as long as his body would allow.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sara stood at the gate while the attendant urged her to board. Sara raised her hand indicating two minutes and the flight attendant folded her arms impatiently. Sara leaned over her cell phone and tapped her foot impatiently. "Pick up, Marc. Pick up."

"Sara?"

"Hey! I didn't think you were going to pick up."

"Where are you?"

"Yeah. About that. You remember saying that I should take a few days and I said that I didn't want to?"

"Uh huh."

"I want a couple of days. I need them." She bit her lip and waited.

"Now?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Marc. I need a little space."

"Do what you have to do, Sara."

"Marc, I have been nothing but trouble since you hired me…"

"Sara, don't worry. Call me tomorrow."

Sara clicked off and ran up the runway past the anxious attendant.

Relief flooded through when she entered the cabin. Open seats dotted the coach section. She found a couple of empty seats next to a window and settled in. She leaned her face against the glass and felt the vibration of the burning jets. Absently she watched the ground rush past and then disappear below her.

She needed advice. The mistakes and worries of the last three months were weighing her down. She needed a good, patient ear; someone who wouldn't judge her. She had many friends in Vegas who would drop anything to do what she needed, and she was grateful for this, but she needed someone dispassionate, someone who would not be wrapped up in their own hopes for her.

She woke up this morning and knew who would fit the bill. He would be patient and thoughtful. He wouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of advising her. She had immediately booted her laptop and bought a ticket to Vegas. It was a short flight. She planned to go and come back in the space of a night and a day.

She didn't call him before she left. This whole idea wasn't well planned out, and she wasn't even sure what to say to him.

In the Vegas airport, she took a cab and stopped at a pharmacy. She came out with a white, paper bag clutched tightly to her side. The cab dropped her at the Palms and she walked in without a reservation. She knew the desk manager, and so she walked away with a room key within minutes.

Up in the room, she kept the shades drawn. She dropped her bags onto one of the double beds and lay down in the other. She pulled out her cell and curled up as she made her call. "Hey, it's Sara….Shhhh!...Don't tell anyone I'm here…I need to talk to you. Life is a little complicated, right now. I need someone to help me think…No! I'm here. Vegas. Palms, room 1325…Really…no, no, no, finish your shift…I'm going to just rest until you come…No, I can wait…Thanks. Thanks for being my friend."

She placed the phone on the pillow beside her and closed her eyes.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grissom lifted his head and squinted his eyes at the clock. He had slept 7 hours. He lay his head back down and waited. At first he felt nothing. Then a dull thumping came faintly and then grew. It was still with him. He rubbed his face roughly with his hands, and pulled himself up. He padded softly into the bathroom, and turned the shower on hot. The soothing warm jets provided some relief, and he stayed under the water for almost forty minutes. Visions of Sara flashed through his thoughts. He couldn't lose the image of her refusing to give evidence to the armed suspect. He imagined her standing there with that defiant look she wore. Beyond that, it bewildered him. Sara was fierce, but never stupid. She was protecting nothing with that move. He had shown his hand, they could build it from there. Her actions frightened him.

By the time, he left the shower, he was decided. Grissom picked up the phone and called the airlines. Within two hours, he was on a business flight to Frisco. The ibuprofen he was taking wasn't even making a dent in the pain. He didn't eat as a tinge of nausea plagued him. At the airport, he took a cab straight to the lab. Again, he was frustrated to find her gone. He convinced the receptionist to bring him to Marc Capistrant's office.

Marc looked up as Grissom stopped at his office door. "Hello Marc."

Marc put his pen down. "Dr. Grissom."

"She's not here."

Marc stood up and gestured to a chair. Grissom tried not to show the relief flooding through his body as he sunk into the chair. The pounding in his head had become a deep hammering on his skull.

"She took a few days off, Dr. Grissom."

Grissom pushed his lips in and out. "Call me, Gil."

"Are you okay?"

"Headache. It's fine. You're not going to tell me where she is, are you."

"I don't know. She needed a few days. And she's not at home. I checked."

Grissom sighed and took a moment to look around the office. "I'm not trying to hurt her. I heard about what happened. I was worried. I don't understand why she wouldn't have responded to that suspect."

Marc shrugged. "She was tired, depressed. When she first came back, I couldn't believe how she looked. Drawn. Pale. Thinner than I remember. But mostly, she seemed lifeless."

"I put her through a lot."

Marc nodded. "You did. But I know Sara. She was thinking about you from the first day the two of you met. Brilliant and handsome, the fact that you were emotionally unavailable merely provided an interesting puzzle for her to solve. She didn't know how to give up. Although I imagine you taught her."

Grissom rubbed his temples emphatically.

"Grissom, I don't know what I can do for you."

"I don't know either." He responded softly.

"Can I get you a cab back to the airport?"

"Please tell her that she deserves better than anything I could have ever given her."

Marc nodded again. A face appeared in the doorway, and a man sauntered in.

"Hi."

Marc made a face. "Hello, Matthew. How nice of you to just come in on."

Grissom looked up.

"Dr…I mean, Gil, this is my partner, Marc."

Grissom reached over to shake his hand.

Matthew stared at Marc. "Not Dr. Mung…I mean, Dr. Grissom."

Grissom chuckled quietly.

"You're here for Sara?"

Grissom nodded.

Matthew turned to Marc. "I think that's very sweet."

"Gil, my boyfriend is something of a hopeless romantic. It's really an interesting trait to find in a city prosecutor."

Matthew faced Grissom and wagged a finger. "You can pine for her, but you can't have her; at least not now. You have a lot of work to do first."

"Please. I assure you that I am not trying to take her anywhere. I just want to make sure she's okay."

"Are you always this stiff?"

"I think he has a headache, Matthew."

"A migraine." Grissom mumbled.

"Medication?" Matthew's brow furled.

Grissom shook his head.

"So you're just going to sit there in pain?"

Grissom looked confused.

Matthew reached over Marc's desk and grabbed the phone. He punched in numbers furiously. "Dr. Chu please…We need an emergency appointment…Migraine. Huge one!...Can Dr. Chu move things around just this once…Oh, Mai, you are a doll. We'll be there in twenty minutes." Matthew clicked the phone and turned to Grissom. "Let's go."

Grissom looked at Marc. Marc sighed. "It's his acupuncturist. He uses Dr. Chu for everything. Ailments. Mental health. Everything!"

"And does it help? I am asking you, Marc, does it help?" Matthew stood there, hands on his hips, glaring at Marc.

Marc looked at Grissom. "He wants to take you to a very good acupuncturist."

Grissom was surprised at how easily he allowed Matthew to lead him out of the crime lab and into a waiting cab. Matthew pulled him in beside him and began to chatter in his ear on a number of different topics. Grissom could make out little of what he was saying, but found his presence to be surprisingly soothing.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sara woke up to the sounds of knocking on her hotel door. She pulled her tired body up and stumbled toward the door. She launched herself at the peephole and smiled at who she saw. She pulled the door open and let Warrick Brown sweep her into a tight hug. He finally let go of her and walked past her into the room. "Hiding out from the feds, Sara?"

She grinned and followed him into the room. "Thanks for coming."

He turned to face her. "I was worried. We all are. You basically disappeared."

She shrugged. "I was in San Francisco."

"And you changed your cell number?"

She winced. "I'm sorry. I was trying to avoid a certain someone."

"Yeah. Wonder who that was." Warrick wandered over to a chair and sat down.

"Warrick I need help." Sara sat on the bed across from him.

"I am here, Girl."

She worried her lips some, watching him carefully. "I had a situation. A gun got pulled on me and I didn't react well."

Warrick leaned in, staring at her intently.

"He told me to give him something, and I wouldn't."

"Did you have a good reason?"

She shook her head. "Guess I thought I was invincible."

Warrick let out a deep breath. "I think this might be beyond my expertise."

She ignored him. "So I have basically been suspended from any fieldwork. I have plenty of time to reflect on my actions or lack thereof." She took in a breath. "And I have had time to notice another difficulty."

"I'm all ears."

"I'm having symptoms of something. I'm tired and nauseous. Very emotional. My breasts have swelled."

Warrick chuckled. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"Couldn't it be something else?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a doctor, and for your sake, I hope it isn't something else."

"I haven't talked to him."

"Are you going to?"

"Not sure I have anything to say."

Warrick leaned back and looked at her. "Quit playing around with this. Do you want to know if you have anything to worry about or not?"

Sara reached for her bag from the pharmacy. She pulled out the pregnancy test and tossed it to Warrick.

"Hey! I'm not taking this." He stopped teasing when he caught the fear in her eyes.

Sara looked away. "I don't know what to do."

He gently tossed it back to her. "We won't know until you take it."

Sara turned it over and over in her hands. They sat in silence for some time. Then she got up abruptly, and disappeared into the bathroom. Warrick rubbed his hands up and down his face and waited.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Grissom emerged from Dr. Chu's examining room with a new look of calm on his face. Matthew smiled. "Did it help?"

"Tremendously." Grissom managed a thin smile. His body felt loose and relaxed.

"Dr. Chu is the best."

"I would love a chance to study the physiology of his technique. Fascinating! Who do I pay?"

Matthew shrugged. "It's on the house."

Grissom looked at him with an odd expression. Finally he said. "I gotta get back to Vegas."

"I have a cab waiting. Call the airport. There is a shuttle leaving in two hours. Enough time for us to stop off for a bowl of Mrs. Wong's egg drop soup and shrimp spring rolls. You look like you could use a good, hot meal."

Grissom stopped and looked at him. "Why are you being so kind? After everything I have put Sara through, I figured you would be pissed off."

"Sara's got good instincts. If she picked you, then there has to be a reason. Besides, every story has two sides. And I am a sucker for true love."

Grisson raised his eyebrows. "And you prosecute for the city?"

"Yeah. And I'm a Libra. Creative. Sensitive. Never sure about anything. Making decisions is like a brain surgery to me. I seek balance in life, and I strive to see both sides of every issue. It's a struggle in my job, but at least I'm not a hard ass vigilante like some of my co-workers."

"I appreciate your balance."

Matthew patted him on the back. "Hey! You're not the only commitment-phobe. Wait 'til I tell you what Marc was like when I first met him. It was a year before he would even let me keep a toothbrush in the bathroom. I'll tell you all about it over stir-fried garlic string beans. Mrs. Wong makes the best in the city."

Grissom followed the nattily dressed lawyer out the door to the waiting cab.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sara came out of the bathroom carrying the white, paper bag. Warrick grabbed his hair. "Sara, you were in there for thirty minutes. Are you telling me that you didn't even open that bag?"

She dropped the bag in his lap. "Opened and tested."

"And?" He watched her as she sat down.

"No clue. I can't look." She was chewing on her bottom lip.

"And you want me to?" Warrick held the bag up.

"What am I going to do, Warrick?"

Warrick slowly unfolded the bag. He pulled out the stick and looked at it. Then he looked up at Sara. "Are you ready?"

"No." She got up and started pacing.

"I have an answer, Sara." He looked at her expectantly.

She turned away from him and waved frantically with her hand. "Don't say anything."

Warrick face slowly broke into a smile. "What are you hoping for? Do you want it to be negative? I am starting to get a little confused about what you really want."

She swung around. "It's negative?"

He cocked his head. "Is that what you want?"

"Just tell me."

"Okay. Sara, you are not pregnant."

Sara stared at him silently. She tried to form words, but nothing came out. "Oh." She said finally, and she sank down on the bed.

"Kind of disappointed, aren't you?"

She blinked her eyes and considered this. "Warrick, I would be the worst mother in the world. With my history…God, I don't know."

"I think you would be a great mom, Sara." Warrick smiled.

"You really think so?"

He nodded firmly. "I am very certain of this."

She let out a deep breath. "Okay, I'll admit it. I am a little disappointed."

"Really? Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well that's good to know, Sara, 'cause I lied."

She sat up ramrod straight. "What!"

He nodded slowly. "Sara Sidle, you are pregnant."

Her mouth dropped. She got up and walked over, taking the stick from him. She looked at it, and then took it over and looked at it under the light. She held it close and then stretched out her arm and squinted at it. Finally she turned to Warrick, tears streaming down her face. "I'm going to have a baby."

Warrick let her cry for awhile. Then he got up and gently folded her into his arms. "Be happy, Sara. Having a baby is a miracle."

"I still don't know what to do." She mumbled into his chest.

"I'm not the one you should be talking to about this."

She pulled away from him. "I don't know, Warrick."

He creased his brows at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"He doesn't know. Not sure he would even care."

He shook his head. "Don't make those excuses. He needs to know."

She pushed away defiantly. "It's my decision."

Warrick walked away from her. "Don't do this, Sara. Don't act like he shouldn't have a voice."

His passion startled her. "Warrick, I don't understand."

"I know what this is like."

"Warrick, I—"

He put a hand up. "Ten years ago. I had been with her for four months. She disappeared for a week. When she came back, she told me she had taken care of it. I think she fully believed that I would be relieved." He went over to look out the window.

"Did you know she was pregnant?"

Looking out the window, he shook his head.

"It was her choice." She said quietly.

He turned sharply at her. "She never gave me a chance. Of course, it was her choice, but I should have had an opportunity to say my piece. She should have had that information. Maybe she would have made a…different choice."

"I didn't think of that."

He licked his lips. "Sara, you need to talk to Grissom."

She stopped dead. "I never said…"

"He would want to know. He deserves to know. Let him have a chance to know this. Please."

"It won't change anything."

"It doesn't matter. He has a right."

She dropped back onto the bed, arms folded and leaned back, closing her eyes tightly. He sat on the bed beside her. He reached over and took her hand. "You'll do the right thing, Sweetie, I know you will."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Grissom got off the flight. He slept through the flight, his stomach full of the most exquisite Chinese food he had ever tasted. He felt somewhat reassured despite the fact that he hadn't seen Sara. The idea that Marc and Matthew were watching out for her helped him to begin letting go. He sat down on a bench and pulled his bag into lap. He took a moment to locate his keys and his wallet. An old habit, the idea of an absentminded professor was a reality for him.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sara walked into the Vegas airport, her ears still ringing with Warrick's words. She could have stayed a day or two more. Maybe she would have had the courage to face him, but going back to San Francisco seemed the safest route for her right now. She would take time to think about what Warrick said. There would be time to think; a little time, at least.

She walked through the airport, oblivious to the chaos around her. A screaming child caught her attention and she stopped dead. She watched the mother try frantically to calm a toddler over a missing toy. The woman tried everything, but the child did nothing but wail. She stood there, tiny, in a jumper decorated in stains, and wailed as if nothing mattered but her own needs. The mother looked around, aware of the stern stares she got from people who walked past. Sara stood there, staring unabashed as the woman tried to reason with the tiny girl. Finally she pulled a bag of cheerios from her pocket and waved them in front of the child. The wail stopped mid scream as she grabbed for the booty before her. Soon she had cheerios in her chubby hands, and she was munching happily. Sara smiled at the simplicity of her world.

She turned to look for her gate, and was startled to see a man with silver hair sitting on a bench, methodically going through his bag. She was startled at his resemblance to Grissom. She moved a couple of steps closer, and her breath caught in her throat. The glasses, the face, his beard, there was no mistaking the identity of this man. She turned around abruptly and ran into a businessman coming in the other direction. She collided with him, and fell backwards onto the ground. Startled, he stepped back, and looked at her. He leaned over, and pulled her to her feet. Her face was growing red at the attention this might be attracting. She looked over to his bench, and saw him oblivious to her situation. He was busy studying something on his cell phone. With a sigh of relief, she started to push her way through the crowd to her gate, to the safety of a sealed jet. She moved past people until she was at the gate. It was early to board and so she paced back and forth in front of the gate. She would talk to him, it was a given. She just needed time to think it through. In a week or maybe just a few days, she would call him. They could talk. There would be the safety of distance. He wouldn't know her address. She could control the interaction.

Secure in this thinking, she sat down in a chair. For a few minutes, she sat there, arms folded tightly across her chest, and waited for the call to board. Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor, and her eyes darted back and forth. She breathed in and out, and tried to distract herself with the T.V. running CNN on the wall.

She watched intently for a few moments. Then she abruptly whimpered, and jumped to her feet. In an instant, she ran down the hallway as fast as she could. She pushed past people, stumbling at times, and then breathed heavily as security scanned her for contraband. They looked at her suspiciously as beads of sweat formed on her forehead, but they let her go and she ran toward the main terminal. She stopped short at his bench, now empty. Her chest heaved in and out. She looked around, but saw nothing but a sea of harried people. Unexpectedly, a sob escaped and she stood, doing her best to calm her emotions. She swallowed hard and turned back toward her gate and ran smack into another person. She fell backwards, and an arm reached out to steady her. She looked up into the blue eyes of the gray haired monster in her dreams.

"Sara!" he exclaimed. "Did you just get here?"

"No. Sorry, I was just leaving."

His brow furled. "You were here. How long? Where? I've wanted to talk to you."

She shook her head. "Just one day. In and out; I'm on my way back."

Grissom nodded. "Sorry I missed you."

She cocked her head. "Why are you here?"

He looked away for a moment and thought. "I just came from San Francisco. I was looking for you."

She felt like someone had just sucked the air out of the room. "I didn't know that."

"Just wanted to see how you were."

Her eyes grew hot. "I'm sorry I missed you."

"So," Grissom shifted from foot to foot. "How are you doing?"

She spread a forced smile across her face. "Good, Grissom. Very good."

He nodded.

"Hey! I can't believe this. I'm going to miss my flight. Sorry. Wish I could stay and talk." She started to edge away from him.

He stood silently watching her back away from him. She waved and turned to trot away. She got only a few feet and then stopped. For a moment, she just stood there, her back to him. She wheeled around, and he stepped forward. Her eyes blinked, and she chewed her lips nervously. She took a few steps in his direction. "Grissom, I came here for a reason. Not to see you, but it relates to you."

Grissom stood there, a look of confusion on his face. Around him, people hustled by, the din of a busy airport echoing around them.

She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant. It seems that our drunken debauchery was a little more fruitful than we imagined."

He reached up and pulled his glasses from his face.

"I don't know what to do. I have an appointment this week, Friday. I can take care of things then. I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you like this."

"You're pregnant with a child, my child?"

She nodded and waited, but he just stared at her intently. "I don't know what to say."

She let out a breath. It was as she expected. Above her, the intercom called her flight. "Listen, I'm going to miss my flight. Take some time with this. Call me if you want. We can talk more. My appointment is on Friday."

He reached forward to grab her arm, but she stepped back, gave him a weak smile, and ran back toward the gate. He stood there, staring at her retreating form until he realized he didn't have a way to reach her. He ran hard after her, but was stopped at security. None of his stories worked. He didn't have a ticket so he was not allowed to pass through. He scanned past the guards but saw nothing but the bland faces of countless travelers.

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TBC


	5. chapter 5

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, Inc.

Thanks to everyone for reading. Getting another chapter up soon will be a struggle. I have finals next week. This chapter doesn't have much action, mostly reflection and memories. Tonight is Committed and I am so terribly excited. I hope it will be as good as promised. I appreciate every bit of feedback I get. It helps me stay focused. Thank you.

Sheila

**Chapter 5**

**Hope Springs**

Sara lay on her bed and reflected over the last 36 hours. She was surprised to find that knowing wasn't as terrible as she thought. In fact, it was a relief to have the truth out there. Over and over, her thoughts flashed back to Grissom standing there like a statue, people walking around him or brushing past; oblivious to everything around him except for her words. Looking back, she sort of felt sorry that she had told him in such a public place, and that it had been too easy for her run off, leaving him with his paralysis. Running away without even a backward glance was borne out of the frustration of yet another Grissom non-reaction. Yet she knew him too well to believe that he was emotionless. He stood there, helpless almost, unable to process the enormity of her information.

Sara thought about calling him, giving him a chance to talk, letting him ask her the questions he wanted to ask, but she found she wasn't ready. She needed a few more hours herself to contemplate the huge implications of being a single, pregnant woman who knew about nothing but work.

She lay flat on her back, and pulled her shirt up her torso. Softly, she touched the skin around her middle. She was surprised to find that her normally flat stomach boasted something of a small bump. She ran her hands over and around the bump, feeling its incline. It was slight, but was clearly a shape she hadn't had a few weeks ago.

The scientist in her was fascinated. She tried to remember what the development of a fetus was at approximately ten weeks, but found that she couldn't remember very much. She would have to get books, many of them. She wanted to know everything possible about the new direction her life had taken.

She rolled over onto her stomach and propped her head on her elbows. The decision about this pregnancy was a terribly complicated one. She had an appointment at the gynecologist for Friday, but she wasn't sure that having this baby was the right thing. This child was a product of two people who were emotionally removed from their lives. For Grissom and herself, work was everything. There were no thoughts of what to do with the south wall of the living room or what color towels to buy for the bathroom. Those decisions were always utilitarian ones for them. Efforts to engage in a social life were impetuous at best. She doubted that Grissom had ever given children as second thought unless they were the victims of a crime. She certainly hadn't. She breathed in deep, and froze. Quickly she rolled onto her back again. For a moment, it struck her that she might be pressuring the baby by laying on her stomach.

She laughed at herself. Certainly that was ridiculous. Yet she had only ever seen pregnant women lying on their backs. Was it merely comfort or was there an issue of pressure for the fetus; another thing she would have to research.

Another thing that made this ridiculous was that she didn't have one single female friend who had had a baby; no one to talk to regarding these issues. There was Catherine, but calling her a friend seemed to stretch the boundaries of their relationship.

Sara Sidle as a mother. It made her chuckle. She was the girl with the abusive alcoholic parents until her mother killed her father; then she was the girl with the murdered father and the imprisoned mother. She was somebody who forgot birthdays, all of them, even her own on occasion. She could cook a grand total of four different items, each from the "Three Ingredients or Less Cookbook', which she rotated between take out meals.

The only gift she could give to this child was to make sure that he or she didn't have the kind of upbringing she had. She questioned her ability to ensure a future for another human being. She carefully rolled over onto her side and thought about this. She decided that this was the criteria she would use to make this decision.

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Grissom drove north until he couldn't anymore. It was early morning when he stopped by the side of the road. The sun was rising, painting the sky with an amazing array of warm hues. He slammed the door to the cab and began pacing. The SUV was no longer big enough for him. He ran his fingers through his hair as he moved. Mercifully, the migraine had not returned.

He kicked at the dusty, yellow soil as he walked aimlessly about the barren landscape, littered only with tough brush hanging on through deep roots. Thoughts crowded his head and left him frustrated. He was annoyed with the different feelings assaulting him, and how it kept him from adequately analyzing the facts.

Fact #1: Sara Sidle was pregnant. Fact #2: He was the father. The idea that she was not telling the truth about this was beyond his ability to comprehend. Sara was too proud a woman to lie to him about something like this.

Beyond facts, 1 and 2, Grissom was lost. He had never seriously considered having children. They were unpredictable, messy creatures that required every bit of a person's heart. He didn't believe he was capable of being this person who could open up his whole being, giving up his secrets, his privacy for this creature whom he would undoubtedly fail in the end. He would essentially be a prisoner to his love for this child. And then, of course, there was the mother. Gorgeous Sara with her long arms and legs, beautiful brown eyes, with a smile that could send him to his knees. This was the woman whose brilliance, passion, and goodness had captivated him from the moment he first spoke with her. She was a tornado of emotion and energy; both intriguing and plaguing him simultaneously. But it was more than that. She had climbed into his heart uninvited and set up housekeeping. He was used to more control than this. Her mere presence had destroyed the well-orchestrated hold he had on his world, and the idea of Sara bearing his child was more than he knew how to process.

Thinking about himself as a father was the most difficult idea for him to process. Images of his own father spilled over again and again; a man just like himself with no time on his hands for anything but his work. Grissom knew he resembled his father who was a big man with steel gray curls and piercing blue eyes. He had idolized this man who moved about with a sense of authority and purpose. Phone calls followed him home at night, and he had little time for Gil or his mother.

Grissom spied a centipede and knelt down gently, watching it scurry back and forth as purposeful as his father had been. It reminded him of a time when he was 7 years old. He remembered sitting on the cool wood on the front porch of his house waiting for his father to get home. He was excited. His father had promised to play with him tonight, and he had spent all day preparing for it. Meticulously, he had spent hours building a town of sand, dirt, and twigs on the porch. He had gathered up twenty different species of insects and had settled them into his ersatz village. Already he was observing the interesting interactions between the insects as they oriented to their new setting.

Every once in a while, he looked up in hopes of seeing his father's large convertible roll into the driveway. He chewed on his bottom lip a little in concern, but had confidence that his father would show as he had promised, and young Gilbert knew the potency of a promise.

His mother came out to the front porch and looked out every once in a while. Her rich brown hair would drift away with the cool sea air as she craned her neck to see the highway. Then she would smile at him and disappear back into the house. Gilbert idolized his mother. She was kind and patient, and just the type of mother who understood why a person would need to build a bug town on the front porch.

His father's long car pulled into the drive, and his father got out. He was always dressed impeccably in a suit, and he wore a matching hat. He strode up the drive and stopped before the boy. "Does your mother know you dragged all this dirt up onto the porch?"

Gilbert nodded.

His father pursed his lips. "You still want to play tonight?"

Gilbert could do nothing but move his head up and down in reply.

"Well, alright. Let me change my clothes and talk to your mother." He disappeared into the house. Gilbert could hear him scolding his mother for how she coddled her son. It was half an hour before he appeared again, looking stiff and uncomfortable in dungarees and a t-shirt.

"What do you want to do, Gilbert?"

Gilbert gestured to his creation. "I built a town."

"This mess?"

"Yeah. Let me show you. It has a fire station and houses and a school and everything."

Albert Grissom reluctantly lowered himself to the floor. Taking a closer look, he studied the village. Then he shrank back. "Boy, your town in filled with bugs."

Gilbert nodded. "Yes, Dad. They live there."

Albert raised an eyebrow at his son. "Let's go toss a ball."

The boy looked down. "We're playing with the town, Dad. The centipede is the fire chief. Look how he goes in and out of the firehouse. The beetles are going to school."

Albert Grissom sat quietly as his son pointed out the various features of his town. He looked at his watch periodically. Then he stood up. "Gilbert, you are going to have to do better than this if you want to hold my attention." Then he disappeared into the house. Minutes later, he reappeared in his shiny blue suit and headed out to his car. His mother chased after him, yelling with the half formed sounds she used. She reverted to the use of her hands, and angrily flashed signs at the retreating convertible that made Gilbert blush.

Through all of this, Gilbert stayed glued to his spot. He was stunned. He couldn't understand why his project didn't interest his father. He was mad at himself for not working harder to make the houses look real. He couldn't look at his town anymore, and swung his foot through the center of it.

His mother turned around and walked back toward the porch. Gilbert didn't like crying so he frowned and looked away. She knelt on the porch beside him. She reached over in her starched, blue housedress and stroked his hair. She pulled his face in her direction. When she talked, she liked to speak and sign at the same time even though Gilbert was good at interpreting her speech. It was important to her that he was fluent in sign just in case something happened to her verbal skills. "Gil, your father is very busy. He isn't paying attention right now."

Gilbert looked down. "I should have tried harder."

Impatiently, she pulled his chin up and made his repeat it. Then she shook her head violently. "No, Gilbert, this is about your father and his business. He loves you. This is not your fault."

Gilbert bit his lip and looked at the mess he made. She followed his eyes and surveyed the damage. "Gilbert, do you know what a tornado is?"

He shook his head.

"It's a rotating column of air that can be very fast and destructive." She used her hands to shape it. "You remember the whirlpool down at McKay's cove. A tornado is like it except with air instead of water." Understand?"

He nodded.

"Let's pretend that a tornado rolled through your town and caused all of this damage." She watched his eyes widen and smiled. "We can have a rescue operation. Didn't you tell me earlier that you had a fire chief? Where is he? We are going to need him."

Gilbert carefully sifted through the debris with his chubby fingers, and eventually pulled up a struggling centipede. He held it up for his mother. "Good," She smiled. "We are going to need him to run the rescue operation."

Gilbert smiled and put the centipede in the middle of the debris. Within minutes, he and his mother were using the centipede to execute a rescue on a mound of buried beetles. They played until fireflies were the brightest thing in the sky.

Grissom finally straightened up. Next his memories would take him to his father's abrupt departure just a few months later, and he had not interest in remembering that particular event. He licked his lips and faced the north. If he kept driving, he would get there in five more hours, but he still didn't know what he would possibly say to her. Then he turned west to the late afternoon sun. This seemed to be a more promising direction. He estimated it would take him seven hours to get there. This direction appealed to him, and so he got in his truck and did a U-turn, picking up gravel and leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

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Sara was drifting in and out of sleep on her bed. Hours of contemplation had brought her nothing but frustration and exhaustion. Her phone rang, and she sat up wildly. She pulled the phone to her ear. "Yes?"

"Sara Sidle?"

This was not his voice, and the electricity in her waned. "Who is this?"

"Thomas, crime lab."

It took her a moment before she could place her recollection of the awkward young man in the morgue.

"Thomas, what time is it?"

"1 a.m."

"Is there an emergency?"

He coughed into the phone. "No, but you haven't been around."

"I've had a few days off." The tone of his questions startled her.

"You just started this job." He sounded whiny.

"Okay, Thomas, what's going on?"

"Have you forgotten about Hope?"

She let out a breath. "No, I haven't."

"Are you aware that the results of your nationwide search are here?"

"No, but how you know?" He was beginning to annoy her.

"I looked in your box. There are five possible matches."

Sara sat up straight. "Would you kindly stay out of my things, Thomas!"

"How would I have been able to tell you that the results came in?"

Sara sighed. "Do you have the results in front of you?"

"I can't interpret them."

She slid off the bed and padded toward the bathroom. "Put them back in my box. I will be there in half an hour."

She pulled a pair of jeans out of her closet and slid them on. As she tugged at the buttons straining at her waist, she realized that, for the first time in her life, Sara Sidle was too big for her clothes.

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It was 1 a.m. and Grissom walked silently up the drive to the porch. He could wake her, but he didn't want to do that. Waking a person with hearing loss was startling at best. The air was warm and gentle and so he settled into the porch swing and listened to the distant sounds of waves crashing on the beach. He closed his eyes and remembered waking up early so he could scramble down to the beach before the tide came in and pounce on the many treasures of the sea. Since his mother didn't drive, she had given him sole use of the garage, and he would store all of his acquisitions in there. He could have been a pack rat, but he wasn't. Rather, he kept a careful accounting of where every item should be stored. He liked the idea of having that sense of control over his kingdom.

The sound of the waves was hypnotizing, and his eyes grew heavy. He let his head rest on his outstretched arm, the swing gently rocking back and forth to the sounds of the seaside.

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Sara could feel him looking over her shoulder as she scanned the results. "Thomas, this is not helping. Go back to the morgue. I will call you if there is something to know."

He scowled at her, but reluctantly left her alone.

She had sent out a list of criteria on missing children to a nationwide data base. Five results came back all matching the characteristics she had labeled in the search. She could tell right away that the first two results were not going to be Hope. The third and the fifth were promising matches. She took her time determining what tests were possible to either to prove or disprove the identity of Hope. It would be a long process, two days of work at least, but it might be just the thing to keep her distracted from her current circumstances.

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He knew his mother was there before he even opened his eyes. The faint scent of gardenia had followed his mother for as long as he could remember. He let his eyes flutter open and pulled his head up. The stiffness in his neck made him wince. She chuckled at him seated in a high-backed wicker chair across from him, raising a cup of tea to her lips.

He smiled at her. She looked as lovely as always. She kept her snowy white hair in a long braid down her back, and her green eyes sparkled with energy. He noticed an entire tea set on a small table between them, and reached for steaming cup already poured for him.

She put down her tea and used her hands to speak. "Why is my son sacked out on my porch like a homeless person?"

He smiled above his cup. "I didn't want to wake you. Coming to visit was an impulse."

She laughed. "I'll say. Your bi-yearly visit isn't scheduled to happen for another two months."

"There is nothing wrong with a little spontaneity, Mom."

"Well, you'll tell me what's going on when you are ready." She got up and gathered up the set. He watched her disappear into the house. A few minutes later, she came back with a plate of warm cinnamon buns. She started back to the house when he stamped his foot. She turned and he gestured for her to sit. He began to use his hands. "Sit down, Mom. Let's enjoy this beautiful morning together. I have everything I need right here."

"I called Roland. He has everything under control at the gallery. You have me for as long as you want."

He looked out over the lawn, the ocean hidden by a couple of beach houses and some dunes. "I miss the salt air. I miss the ocean. The desert is so dry and quiet.

She sat, her hands folded in her lap, and waited.

He slowly turned back to her. "I made a mistake, Mom. Actually, I made a lot of them. I don't know how to undo them."

She raised her hands. "We don't undo them. We learn from them and move on."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I keep hurting people, someone who I care about…I keep hurting her and I don't know how to stop."

She cocked her head at him as if confused. "You are talking about the woman you work with, Sara?"

He creased his brow. "How do you know that?"

She made a face at him. "I'm your mother. You talk about work when you come. I can tell who is special to you."

He felt a blush rise up his cheeks and he looked away.

"Gilbert, look at me!" she said sharply. He turned his head obediently. "Tell me what you did."

He let out a deep breath. "I…we got drunk and slept together. She's pregnant."

Her eyebrows rose. "I am going to be a grandmother?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Things are not good between us. She's in San Francisco. I don't know what to say to her. You know what a lousy parent I would be."

She stamped the floor hard, her mouth set in a grim line. "I do not know that you would be a lousy parent, Gilbert. I do not know that at all."

"She has had…feelings for me for some time. And I have kept her at arm's length for so many years. It was too much for her. She had to leave. It was hurting her too much."

"And you loved her back." She signed. He started to protest, but she stopped him. "Don't deny it. I know all about you and your silly notions about relationships. When will my ridiculous boy own up to the fact that he is an emotional coward?"

"Mother, what if I make the same mistakes my father did? What if I did that to a child? Children need adults who will be there physically and emotionally."

She waved his words away and got to her feet. "Go take a shower and then a long walk. You are tired and making no sense. We'll talk later." She started to walk away and then stopped. Turning around, she looked at him sternly. "Gilbert, you are not capable of walking away from a child. You don't have it in you. It's as simple as that."

"Mom, this emotional distraction caused me to make a mistake at work; a mistake that resulted in a woman's death."

She froze.

"All of these emotions are so powerful. I can't seem to sort them out. I imagine Sara's face and then I see the young woman who died. I imagine having a child and I see the little girl this woman left behind. I'm lost." He shifted uncomfortably. "I really struggled about bringing this mess to you."

She walked over and stroked his cheek. "You're a good man, Gilbert. We'll work it out. I put out a fresh t-shirt and jeans on your bed." She let go and walked away.

He stared into the wind, blinking away the moisture that gathered in his eyes.

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It was a waiting game now. All the tests were done, and Sara had hours before results would come to her. She liked sitting in the corner. No one seemed to bother her back there. Her hands kept sliding beneath her shirt. She had become fascinated with this thickening around her middle. She knew it was too early for any kicking, but her heart leaped a little every time she felt any movement even though she suspected that she was feeling nothing more than gas traveling through her digestive tract. She smiled softly.

"Got a secret to share?"

Startled, she looked up to see Marc leaning in the doorway.

He walked in. "I didn't realize you had come back to work."

"Yeah, well you can thank Thomas. He called me at 1 a.m. last night to let me know that work was waiting for me."

Marc shook his head. "That boy is weird."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm glad to be back. Good to have something to focus on that doesn't tie me in knots."

He looked down to where her hands were splayed protectively around her middle. "So, how's that going for you?"

She pulled her hands away. "What?"

"Your pregnancy."

She looked down. "I'm not…I don't…I'll know more by next week. It could be nothing."

"You know Matthew and I will be there for whatever you need. Any decision you make will be one that we support."

Unable to meet his eyes, she nodded.

He leaned over her desk and whispered into her ear. "You'll be a fabulous mother. I promise you."

She blinked and backed away in her chair. When she finally looked up, he was gone.

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TBC


	6. chapter 6

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Sorry so long between chapters. I have been up to my ears in a final paper. But it is behind me now, and I am much relieved. Thanks for being patient. This is developing a lot more slowly than I had imagined, but I believe it is taking me somewhere. Just hope you will follow along.

I wanted to make a comment. I had Warrick lie to Sara about her pregnancy test and then tell her it was positive. I didn't realize that it was like Phoebe telling Rachel from Friends until after someone commented in a review, and I thought, 'damn, she's right'. Of course, I saw it and of course it is derivative. Many reviewers were good natured about it. A couple, however, were really bent out of shape; one of them demanding that I rewrite it. The whole idea of reviewing in this vein anonymously, of course, is very silly and unreasonable. In any event, flame away if you must because I am not rewriting one word. It worked in my head and so it stays. No doubt it was a subconscious rendering of what I saw on Friends, but, honestly, so what. Okay. That's out of my system now.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. It means the world to me that you enjoy this.

Sheila

Chapter 6

Hope Springs

Looking out over the bay from Golden Gate Park was one of her favorite retreats when she was a grad student. The beauty and the enormity of the view helped her to slow and organize her thoughts. Today, it acted as a time machine taking her back to a morning when her advisor had told her she had to go to a seminar on bugs. She was slightly hung over and steamed that her advisor had been so authoritarian with her. When she walked into the lecture hall, she was surprised to see that there was hardly an empty seat in the room. She squeezed past people in the third row to get to a seat in the middle. As she sat down, she hoped her queasy stomach wouldn't erupt. Trying to launch herself to the bathroom over 8 laps was going to be anything but discrete.

Already he was up there. Gray-haired with spectacles, he shuffled paper about the podium in silence. She groaned under her breath and slumped in her seat. He was probably going to be another professor who droned through a lecture oblivious to the drooping heads and yawns. Finally satisfied with the order of his notes, he looked up and smiled. There was something about him that made her sit up.

He began his lecture with a story about a woman who was murdered. Her corpse was recovered from a state park, but there was no way to determine time of death because of weather conditions. He told them how he removed the maggots from her carcass and studied their life cycles. The protocol he used for this was long and monotonous, but she hung on every word. He was brilliant and she liked that. Her own genius left her awkward and impatient with most people, and she craved people who challenged her. At Berkeley, there should have been more than enough stimulation for her, but she found herself tired of the arrogance that often followed academicians around like a cloud.

This man, this Dr. Grissom, didn't sit behind a desk opening rejection letters on his latest submission to the American Journal of Biology. He was out there doing real things with real people. He was using his gifts to fight crime. As happened on occasion, she entered into the fray as if he and she were the only two in the room. She raised question after question. Each time, he would stop and cock his head for a moment, considering her words. Then he would patiently and thoroughly answer her. By the end of the seminar she was hooked. She didn't glom onto him at the end of his lecture gushing out her admiration for his intellect. That was so two years ago for Sara. Instead, she headed for the library, looking up every reference on Dr. Grissom she could find.

His lecture series included six seminars over the course of two weeks. Everything else that Sara was doing took a back seat. She was there at each seminar half an hour before anyone else. She came prepared, a copy of his text in one hand, copies of his journal articles in another. She listened intently, jumping in whenever she wanted more. He never grew impatient with her although she wished she could say the same about her classmates. Her obsession didn't go unnoticed, and she took quite a bit of teasing between seminars. Sara was too focused to care.

At the fourth seminar, she saw him scanning the audience until his eyes locked with hers. Then he stopped searching and smiled. A feeling she hadn't had since tenth grade flooded through her, and she ended up too flustered to fully engage with him in the lecture. It was after this one that she stayed until everyone else had left. He saw her still seated, and took his glasses off. He jumped off the stage and sat a couple of chairs away from her. For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then she launched in with every question that had plagued her from his most recent article. Like this, back and forth, stimulating each other, excited about the discourse, they talked for hours.

It was after the fifth seminar that she asked him out to dinner. He hesitated, looking away awkwardly. She quickly assured him that it was merely appreciation for the patience he had shown her. Right after the sixth seminar, she waited for him at the door and they walked out together. The conversation never flagged. Despite his more formal attire, he sat on the grass with her and shared sandwiches. At some point in the conversation, she asked him about the work. He talked about Vegas and the crime lab and the national reputation they were building. He talked about the special issues that Las Vegas had that were unique among cities. And he talked about cases. She hung on every word. His delivery was dry but droll, and she laughed more than she imagined she would. When dusk fell, she offered to walk him back to his hotel. He worried about how she would get home. She promised to take a cab from his lobby.

At the hotel, he turned to her abruptly and offered to buy her a drink. Sara smiled. Ending the evening was the last thing she wanted to do. He drew her out and she talked about her thesis and her professors and the politics in the department. It amazed her how he would listen so carefully, his brow slightly creased as he processed her every word.

Soon it was time to leave, and she didn't want to go. She made noises about going, and he made noises about getting up for a breakfast meeting, but neither of them stirred from their chairs. Finally, she leaned over with only two glasses of wine in her and told him he was cute. One eyebrow arched, only one. She immediately thought of Mr. Spock. He didn't say anything and she felt her skin begin to get hot with embarrassment. She pushed back her chair, ready to mumble an apology of some sort and beat a hasty retreat when his hand landed on her arm. He pulled her back down and reached over to touch her hair. Shivers ran down her spine. Stumbling over her words, she tried to assure him that she didn't do this kind of thing every day, but he only smiled. He got up and gestured toward the elevator and she followed. In the elevator, they stood side by side like strangers, but at his room, he slipped his hand into hers.

It was such a lovely, slow night. He kissed her long and hard as if it were a long forgotten art form. She tugged at his clothes and he whispered for her to be patient. So they touched and kissed for hours. She let him take off her shirt and explore her neck and breasts as if an appraiser inspecting treasure. The longing left her trembling with need and when she wanted to do nothing more than scream, he answered her gracefully with long and gentle strokes. They were like this all night, pushing each other to the edge and then coming together in mutual ecstasy.

When she woke the next morning, she could immediately tell that the spell was broken. He sat at the table by the window stiffly, and turned away when she got up in search of clothes. She sat across from him and he talked to her about friendship and concerns and age differences and busy schedules. She didn't react much to what he was saying because in that moment she had expected nothing more than what they had. She had no idea that the longing would build in her again after he left, and that no one around her satisfied the desire she felt for him.

He promised to stay in touch, and, amazingly, he did just that. E-mails, phone calls, lunches when he was in town or passing through. She called him when she needed an outside reader for her thesis, and he flew in for her thesis presentation and defense. Every time, she knew they were sleeping in the same city, she hoped that he would draw her in again, but he never did. But, they often lingered in conversation, huddled together in a bar or a hotel lobby until the sun came up as if neither of them quite knew how to be without the other.

When she came to Vegas, she expected their relationship to resume. It didn't. Her feelings of desire mixed with frustration and anger and confusion. And years of this tension, this imposed control had left them far more lonely than they had ever been before. Sara caressed her stomach constantly now. She didn't want to attach. It was important that she keep her options open. She was sure that reason was not on her side. Being a parent was unmanageable considering his history and current lifestyle. But like she had with Grissom, this was a desire that was quickly moving beyond her control.

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Grissom reached over to the right careful to hold steady to the roof. He ran his gloved hand through the rain gutter pulling out the leaves and other debris he found. He reached again to capture some twigs when the ladder he was perched on jerked precariously. Slapping both hands onto the gutters, he hung on tightly. When the swaying stopped, he looked down and his mother was glaring at him, her hands on her hips.

"Mother!" He called. Quickly, he scurried down the ladder before she decided to rattle his ladder again. He jumped off and looked at her. "What are you up to?"

"What are you doing on my roof?"

"I was cleaning out your gutters." Grissom was brushing debris off his shoulders.

"I already have someone to do this."

"Do you remember when he forgot?" Grissom emphasized his point with signs.

"Gilbert, that was 13 years go. He doesn't forget anymore."

"And breaking my neck was going to prove a point?"

"You are not here to do my yard work. You have big issues to think about. It is Wednesday and you still haven't talked to her."

Grissom rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "I'm going to tell her that I will be supportive of whatever she decides. And I am going to do that this evening just as soon as I reach her friend, Matthew, because I do not have Sara's number."

"You are going to tell her that you will support anything she decides?"

"Yes, mom."

"So all the options are equal to you?"

He closed his eyes. "It's not my choice."

"What do you hope will happen?"

Grissom looked away from the intent eyes of his mother.

"Gilbert, do not act that this is some dispassionate decision for you. If you want this baby, you have to say so."

"And my wanting this child is best for whom? Do I look like good father material? Can you imagine me with a toddler?"

Olivia Grissom snorted. "I woke up one morning after I had been married a year. I just found out that my hearing loss was progressive and irreversible. I had a husband who was working 80 hours a week trying to establish his business, and he was showing no interest in learning how to communicate in sign language. No one was buying my art. And then I found out I was pregnant with you. You think you are unprepared."

"You are a wonderful mother." He signed to her gently.

"None of us come prepared. If you have love in your heart then you can be a wonderful parent, Gilbert."

He didn't say anything.

"You can't be in control all the time. Life is no fun that way. How did I not teach you to live in color?" He started to answer, but she turned and walked away, waving away any comments he might make to her retreating back. . He stood there silently for awhile. Then he pulled the ladder down and dragged it back to the shed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Cath, I need a couple days." Warrick trotted up to walk alongside his boss.

She raised her eyebrow at him and shook her head. "Grissom still hasn't come back. Ecklie's going nuts with all the cryptic messages he keeps leaving."

"Yeah, I know it's tight, but I have a situation. I need to be there for a friend."

"Who?"

Warrick screwed up his face. "Can't do that, Catherine. I promised."

She stopped and looked at him. "Then the answer is no."

He let out a deep breath as she started to walk away. "Catherine. Sara needs me. I need to go."

She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly. "And this has something to do with Grissom being gone?"

He shrugged. "Probably."

"Those two can't go a week without screwing up each other's lives."

"Yeah."

"She really needs you?"

He nodded. "I wish I could tell you more."

She sighed. "Go. Do whatever it is she needs you to do. I'll make it work with Ecklie. Tell them both I think they are a couple of idiots for managing to have the most complicated relationship in the world for absolutely no reason at all."

He smiled. "I'm sure they would love to hear that."

She rolled her eyes and took off in search of Ecklie.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Matthew?" Grissom paced back and forth in the dunes behind his mother's house.

"Gilbert! How are you?"

Grissom winced into his cell phone. "Well, it's been a fairly confusing week."

"Really? Tell me more."

"I'm still trying to reach Sara. It's imperative that I talk to her. Can you help?"

"You want her phone number?"

"Yes." Cool, salt air whipped through his hair.

"You're going to talk to her on the phone?"

Grissom felt irritation rise up in him. He turned his face into the sandy wind. "Matthew. Please!"

"Well, it seems like talking to Sara requires something a little personal than a phone call."

Grissom grew quiet. The wind whistled through the long, tough grass that dotted the dunes.

"Gil? Are you there?"

Grissom blinked. "I'm here. Listen I'll call you back."

He snapped the phone closed and headed back toward the house.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sara poked her head into the morgue. There was something about the silence of a morgue that was louder than any other silence. Thomas sat in a corner hunched over a small desk illuminated only by a small desk lamp. She slid in the door, and smiled at him when he looked up.

"I have news, Thomas."

He sat back, an oversized white lab coat hanging past his knees. "Hope?"

"Her name is Attica Jones, born February 2nd, 2000 in Sioux Falls, South Dakota."

His face screwed up. "Attica is the name of a prison."

"And a small girl who never made it to the age of 5 years."

Thomas nodded.

"Local police in Sioux Falls will notify her family. I expect that someone will come to pick her up in a day or two. Can you make sure that she is ready?"

"Do we know they didn't do this to her?" He stood there, lost in the big coat.

She wet her lips. "She's been missing for nine months. We've collected all the evidence that can be taken. It's time to put her to rest, Thomas."

The young man looked down and shuffled his feet.

She smiled gently at him. "Thanks for taking care of her."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sara lay on her sofa and stared at her book shelves. They were a mess. Books were stacked in piles on the floor. Only a few books had yet made it onto a shelf. Around the shelves, open boxes littered the floor. The warm, yellow walls were bare. Her stereo system lay in a corner, loose cords sticking out from underneath.

She had no interest in organizing the clutter around her. It amazed her, in fact, that she had lived 9 weeks like this. At some point, she assumed that it would make sense to turn this apartment into a home. Her hands hadn't left her stomach since she lay down. The shape had become more pronounced. She'd spent 15 minutes in front of the mirror looking at the curve in her abdomen. Her breasts had grown as well, and were amazingly tender. For the first time in her life, she felt voluptuous. Unfortunately the stress of her current situation didn't allow her to enjoy it.

Making a decision was becoming easier and easier, but she refused to allow it to happen just yet. It was important that she imagine all of the consequences of the different options. She hadn't had positive thoughts about mothers, any mothers, for a very long time. Thinking of herself as one left her with a queasiness that morning sickness couldn't touch.

Her doorbell rang, and anxiety shot through her body. She assured herself that he didn't know where she was; she could control their next contact. This being the only thing she could control at this point. She pulled herself up, and shuffled to the door. Two familiar faces crowded her peephole. She opened the door and let Marc and Matthew in. Marc gave her an odd look and walked by. Matthew leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Your t-shirt. The pregnancy you aren't having is starting to show."

Sara looked down and saw that her tight tee was still bunched up above her stomach. She tugged it down over her waist. Marc was sitting in her vacated spot on the sofa. Matthew was pulling take-out boxes out of a bag. "I was just getting sleepy, guys."

"You don't eat well. I have Mrs. Fishbaum's vegetarian borscht here. It's fabulous." Matthew disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with bowls and spoons.

Sara rolled her eyes.

Marc shook his head at her. "You're going to eat whether you want to or not. Matthew has decided. Understanding him as a force of nature makes it all go down easier."

Matthew took her hand and twirled her into his hip. He let his hand rest on her abdomen for a moment. She gasped and pulled away. Matthew blinked in surprise. "Honey!"

"I'm not ready." She mumbled at the floor.

"But—" Marc put a hand up to stop him. Matthew sat down heavily in a kitchen chair.

"Maybe we should go." Marc motioned for Matthew to get up.

Sara put her hands up. No. No. I'm sorry. Please stay. Let's eat some soup."

They sat down and began to sip the rich, slightly sour soup. Matthew looked over at Marc who shook his head furiously. Matthew creased his brow in protest. Sara looked up to watch the dinner theatre in front of her. "You want to ask me something, don't you?"

"It's okay. We'll eat in peace and leave you alone." Marc murmured over a spoonful of soup.

She turned to Matthew who was looking chastised. "Go ahead and ask me."

"We should let you eat in peace." Matthew mumbled.

"Too late, boyfriend. Tell me what's on your mind."

Matthew looked at Marc. "Well, you have an appointment tomorrow, and we or, I guess, I was thinking that you shouldn't go alone. And Marc can open his schedule for the morning, and I can shift a couple of meetings…"

Sara stared down at her bowl. "Thanks. I mean it."

"So we get to go?"

She smiled. "Okay."

The doorbell rang. Matthew jumped up and went to the door. Sara looked at Marc who merely shrugged. A few moments later, Matthew brought in a tall, handsome man with the skin of café and emerald eyes.

"Warrick!" Sara blinked in surprise. She got up and hugged him. Marc went over and shook his hand. Matthew stood there, a confused look on his face. Marc turned and gestured at Warrick. "Warrick, this is my partner, Matthew Stone. Matthew, this is Warrick Brown. I know Warrick from a couple of Forensics conferences."

"Really?" Matthew's eyebrows rose.

Marc rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and he's my secret lover here to get a look at the competition."

Matthew narrowed his eyes while they laughed at him. "If that's the case, then I'm sure he'll see how hopeless it is and go home."

Warrick reached over to shake his hand. "I wanted to check on Sara."

She smiled at him. "That was nice."

"I know you have an appointment in the morning. I thought maybe you might need some company."

"Thanks Warrick. That's great. I will have a lot of support with me."

The doorbell rang. Again Matthew disappeared into the entry. Warrick raised a brow at Sara. "You having a party or something?"

She shrugged.

Matthew came back into the room, and turned to usher in the man who filled all the space in her dreams. Grissom stood silently next to Matthew and surveyed the room. His eyes stopped when he found Sara.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	7. chapter 7

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: I hope you were all good to your mothers this year. I was and so, of course, this chapter took a little bit longer. Only two more episodes left. Will we get a little bit more GSR to hold us over 'til fall. It would be a gift certainly. I can only hope. I have a stronger sense of the story I am going to tell now, and am relieved. I hope you like it. I appreciate your support and treasure your comments. As always, thank you.

Sheila

**Chapter 7**

**Hope Springs**

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Grissom nodded to Warrick, but kept his eyes on Sara. "I realize that I'm here without an invitation, but you did say that if I needed to talk before Friday and I didn't have your phone number…" He stood there, vulnerable and real, waiting for her to respond.

"How did you find me?" Sara looked genuinely confused.

"That would be me." Matthew raised his hand.

"Matthew!" Marc slapped the back of his head.

"What!" Matthew took cover away from his partner. "Gil is good for Sara. He just doesn't know it yet."

Marc looked away in disgust.

Grissom stood quietly as the drama evolved around him.

Sara met his eyes. "We should talk."

Warrick let out a breath. "That's my cue to leave."

"Sounds like a plan." Marc began steering Matthew to the door. "Have you eaten, Warrick?"

Warrick shook his head.

"There's a great Cuban place on Sunset. Mojitos like you wouldn't believe."

Warrick nodded. "Let's go."

Matthew narrowed his eyes again as Warrick walked past. Marc grabbed his partner by the arm and pulled him toward the door. Matthew started hissing in his ear. "I don't know about this. This guy, this Warrick…Marc, you don't realize what a tremendously sexy guy you are. He may be straight, but you have the kind of masculinity that transcends sexuality. You just don't know." Marc gave Sara one long suffering look and dragged his boyfriend out into the hallway. The door closed quietly behind them.

Sara gestured at the sofa. Grissom sat down, and watched her settle into the overstuffed chair across from him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Confused."

Grissom licked his lips. "You look great."

"My pants don't fit."

Grissom raised an eyebrow.

She stroked her abdomen. "It's…I don't know."

"May I see?"

Sara chuckled. "Are you doing research?"

"No." Grissom said softly.

"Come here." She gestured for him.

He got up and knelt in front of her. She pulled up her t-shirt and reached for his cool hand, bringing it to rest on her midriff. He made a noise at the back of his throat as his hand made contact. She felt his fingers tremble under her touch. She slid his hand up and down, and he was able to find the new curve of her abdomen.

She held his hand there tightly while she talked. "I don't know what to do. Tomorrow, I have an appointment. I want to keep this baby. I have no doubts about that. I haven't even said that aloud yet, but it's the truth. I just don't know how to do it well."

He started to respond, but she interrupted. "I hold you to nothing. This is my decision. I am probably doing the wrong thing...She sighed deeply. "Lord knows I don't know the first thing about being a good mother."

Grissom pulled his hand away gently. "I don't know, Sara. I think you're going to be a great mother. Fierce. Strong. Committed."

She looked away. "In any event, you are held to nothing."

"Sara, I don't really understand your motives for saying that, but be clear about this…" He worked his mouth for a moment. "I want this baby too."

She looked at him with eyes wide. "Really? This fits into your pneumatically sealed life?"

"No. But I want this baby nonetheless. There is nothing rational about it."

Sara was stunned.

"Look, I realize that I am supposed to be the guy who doesn't feel anything, but I want this baby. I want you to be the mother. I want to help. I want to provide." Grissom sighed and could no longer look at her. "I want to love this child."

"Wow! Is this kid going to be screwed up or what? With the two of us as parents, this baby has really got an uphill battle ahead of him…or her." Sara shook her head, a grin tugging at her mouth.

Grissom smiled. "I am having some trouble with time. How long ago was it exactly?"

She laughed. "Um, 12 ½ weeks. You were pretty messed up. Julianne Phillips' death was hard on you. We didn't see you after the funeral for days." .

Grissom pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You have finished your first trimester."

She nodded.

"We don't have much time, Sara. Six months to become experts at this."

"I've ordered books, lots of them. They should arrive this week."

He nodded. "Hmm. I think we need more…practical experience. Any ideas?"

She shrugged. "Catherine?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Catherine teaching us to be parents? Interesting idea. Not sure she really warms to the topic though."

Sara chuckled. She folded her legs up under her. He was glad to see her really relaxing. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her like this.

He shifted on the sofa, letting the tension in his body go. He worried his lower lip a little as he considered his next words. She sat patiently, watching him struggle with his thoughts. "Sara, I want you to know that I will try very hard to do this well. I…don't, I didn't have much of a father. In fact, I don't remember missing him much after he was gone. Guess I grew up thinking both that fathers weren't very important and that they could judge you for years beyond the time you last saw them."

"You had a good mother, Griss. That's the role model you use; not the guy that went out for cigarettes and never came home."

"Who are you going to use?" He immediately was sorry for saying it. He tried to retract it, but she held up a hand and responded.

"It's a good question. I don't know really. One of the things I haven't figured out."

He looked around the room. "Still not unpacked. That's good."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It'll be easier to move you back to Vegas."

She laughed. "I'm not going back to Vegas."

His brow creased and he stared. "Ah, we're…are you saying that we aren't going to do this together?"

"Define together." She rested her head on the back of the couch and watched him. There was a subtle shifting of control in the room, and she was the first one to know it.

He swallowed. "I don't know. We work on this. We talk. I have a spare bedroom. You wouldn't have to worry about anything. We have a history, feelings to explore. We do what we have to in order to raise this child well."

She closed her eyes and sighed. He waited, but for a long moment there was nothing. He was beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep when her eyes popped open. "Grissom, I need you to listen to me carefully. You and I together has been nothing but heartache, almost from the first day. Do you think this child would benefit from two people so unhappy with one another? Do you think I benefited from parents who didn't like each other? You yourself said that you liked it better after your father left."

He couldn't begin to respond. He suddenly felt tremendously sad. "You don't…What do you want from me?"

"I want what you can give. If you want to be a part of this child's life, I will support that. Vegas is a 75 minute plane ride from here. You can have holidays, weekends, we'll work it out. I don't have any desire to keep this child from you. I welcome the support."

"And that's it?"

She sat up and leaned forward. "I can't hope that you'll change, that you'll want me in your life in a way that's real. I can't do that anymore. It's the 21st century. People don't need to stay together for the children anymore. Or they shouldn't. You telling me that you are going to try hard…it's too late. For the sake of this child, we have to move on. We deserve happiness. I think that there is a very real possibility that I stared down that suspect because I didn't care anymore."

Grissom sucked in a breath. He leaned forward. "Sara, was it suicidal? Are you telling me that you…" He couldn't finish his thought.

"I don't know, Grissom. I don't think so. But I know that I didn't care. I was too tired, too sad. I can't go back there. In the last two weeks, it has felt like a fog was lifting. I have room to breathe again."

"I did this to you?" He felt frozen.

"No," She shook her head emphatically. "I did this to me because I was so wrapped up in the idea of you. And I can't be that person anymore. She would not be a good parent to this baby."

"Do you think I can just let go? Do you really think I don't feel love, that I haven't wanted you, loved you all of this time?"

Sara froze. He spoke as if it had been a topic of conversation between them for years instead of the first time she had ever heard him use those words. She carefully considered her words before she spoke. "It never looked like love. It never felt like love. So the fact that you say it existed has no real meaning to me now."

Grissom let his frustration leak into his words. "You feel nothing for me?"

She was on her feet standing before him. "Gil, listen. I can't do this," She touched her stomach and then gestured at Grissom, "And this at the same time." She flopped back down into the chair. "Thinking about you is not good for this." She rested her hand on her middle. After a moment, she spoke again, "I am hoping that, one day, we can be friends again. I think that is what I will miss the most."

His hands folded together, he stared down at the carpet for a while. Sara bit her lip. She wanted to reach out, she wanted to take it back and give him one last chance, but she didn't dare. Her baby needed her stronger than she knew how to be around him. She blinked away tears she refused to shed. Finally he lifted his head. "I'm so sorry, Sara."

She nodded. "Don't wallow in this. You are even harder on yourself than I am. Use this. Make it an opportunity to grow. Maybe it can help you be the man you want to be. Maybe, it will help you be the father you want to be."

He pursed his lips. "Maybe I can become someone safe in your life again. And we…can learn to not hurt each other. I can gain your trust and we can start over again."

She shook her head. "Whatever you do, do it for yourself and your child, not for me. We have to take our own paths."

"You've really been thinking about this."

She snorted. "Actually, I haven't much. I'm almost as surprised as you are right now. But it feels right. It feels like something I should have done with you years ago."

"I can't call you?"

"Of course you can, and we can talk about the pregnancy and becoming parents and things like what color I should paint the baby's room. Call me every day if you want. Let's just stick to what's important right now, okay?"

He nodded slowly. He started to get up. "I know you have quite a crowd going with you to your appointment with the OB-GYN tomorrow, but I was just wondering if I could be there too."

She smiled. "I think I'm going to call the guys and tell them to sleep in. So if you don't mind, maybe just you could go with me. It's an early appointment. We can go, and then maybe have breakfast. Stop at a bookstore, and use your credit card to pillage the pregnancy/childbirth aisle. What do you think?"

He let out a deep breath, sounding everything like relief. "Sounds great, Sara."

"Want to sleep here?" Grissom's eyebrows jumped and she laughed. "On the couch, I mean. I figure you don't have a hotel. It's midnight. We have to get up early. Let me grab a pillow and a blanket for you." She disappeared into the hallway without waiting for a response. Grissom sank back into the sofa. He doubted he would get one moment of sleep. Already her words echoed in his head, creating a rhythm of their own. His carefully scripted life had just come to an end. He was living day by day now, no idea how he would ever be able to control the emotional cyclone growing in his gut.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She lay on her bed, gripping a pillow around her middle. She did everything she could to settle her breathing. The apartment was small, and there was only a wall separating her from him. Her pillow grew damp from her tears. She longed to let go of the emotions she held together so tightly in front of him. The best she could do was to bury her face in the pillow, and muffle her sobs. It was amazing what a good actor she had become. He told her he loved her and she responded like a patient school teacher with a child. She called him Gil, showing him her new power. She told him it was over; explained that she had no more time for this nonsense. Unfortunately her heart was in direct conflict with her actions. If his outline darkened her door right now, it would be over. She would pull him in, apologize, take him into her bed, trust him, and send them both down an irretrievable path of pain and disappointment. It was a truth she felt deep inside.

And yet, she kept her eyes glued to her open doorway, hoping to find him standing there. He would ask softly if he could come in. He would say that he needed to talk. He would sit on the edge of the bed, and when she became emotional, he would reach for her, and they would spend the rest of the night in each other's arms, talking and holding one another. She rolled away from this image, and desperately tried to create another. But even the baby couldn't compete with the gray haired enigma lying out on her living room sofa. She found that it physically hurt in her gut that she was denying herself the possibility of Gil Grissom.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Warrick looked up from his cup of coffee, Kenyan dark roast. Matthew had been trying to school his boyfriend on the health benefits of green tea, but Marc was ignoring him as he nursed a double shot of espresso. Matthew continued unperturbed until his cell phone shrilled and he turned his attention to a fellow ADA calling about a plea bargain. Soon he had wandered off to the back patio of the coffeehouse, one arm waving wildly as he emphasized his distaste for the offer. Marc sighed and looked at Warrick, "He's nervous; very worried about Sara and Grissom. Matthew doesn't have biological family. They stopped talking to him twenty years ago when he came out and never looked back. He's formed his own family; Sara being one of the first people he adopted after he and I started dating. He's a little crazy about this right now. Wants to protect her from any more pain, help Grissom reach out to her, and become Uncle Matthew in the process. He has a lot of balls in the air. Ends up coming off as a little intense."

Warrick smiled. "And he thinks I am here to steal you."

Marc sputtered coffee onto the table and laughed. "He doesn't really. He's just marking his territory a little. He does that whenever a good looking guy is within shouting distance."

Warrick looked at his watch. "I wonder where they are. They should have been here 15 minutes ago. I still have to try to catch a flight back to Vegas. Picked up a double for the morning to make up for lost time."

"Well, it's 2:30 now. Last shuttle leaves at 7 p.m."

Just then, Marc caught a glimpse of her, weaving her way through the tables packed with people sipping coffee and talking. Behind her, a slightly beleaguered Grissom moved more slowly, weighed down by heavy bags of books and limited space for maneuvering. Sara's face erupted into a smile when she saw them and she sailed in with hugs before settling in between them. Grissom hefted the bags under the table and looked at her, "Would you like anything?"

She shook her head. "I'm good. Thanks."

Grissom turned a weary head to look toward the packed coffee bar and thought better of it. He dragged a chair over and sat with them.

"And?" Marc leaned over.

She couldn't control her grin. "It's good. I'm healthy. Everything is in order and I am going to have this baby."

Matthew came striding back into the room and hugged her from behind. "The news is good?"

She nodded and he kissed her cheek.

Warrick noticed that Grissom was much less animated, even for Grissom. He smiled and nodded and dutifully hauled out all of the books they had purchased on pregnancy and childbirth while Sara showed them off. In full geek mode, they planned to study their way to parenthood. He noticed that Sara's gaiety seemed a little forced. She focused all of her attention on himself, Marc, and Matthew as if Grissom wasn't even at the table.

For his part, Grissom responded with one word answers. An awkward silence fell at the table as they all realized the unacknowledged dynamics. Warrick reached under the table and found her hand. She smiled at him, but he could see the moisture building in her eyes.

Matthew seemed to sense something because he brought none of his manic energy to the proceedings. Instead, he stood back quietly and took it all in. Finally Grissom sighed and spoke, "I want to thank all of you for your support. I'm going to need to get back to Vegas tonight and it feels good knowing you are all here to watch over Sara."

Warrick thought it was the saddest he had ever heard Grissom sound. Silence again took hold until Matthew spoke, "Before you go, Gil, I set up another appointment for you at Doctor Chu's. Follow-up. Help you deal with the stress."

"I don't really have time, but I appreciate the kindness, Matthew."

"Nonsense! You can go before you leave."

Warrick's brows raised and he waited for Grissom's irritated reply to Matthew's fussing, but he got nothing. Instead Grissom just gave him a thin smile and said thank you.

"I should probably go. Get to the office. Have a backlog of work, and my boss is going to go ape shit if I don't get caught up." Sara's voice seemed to surprise Grissom, and he jerked his head in her direction. For a moment they stared at each other. Marc signaled to Matthew and they got up. Warrick saw this and followed suit. "Hey, we'll wait for you outside." Without another word, the three of them disappeared into the crowd of people around the bar.

Grissom broke their silence. "I can call you every day?"

She nodded. "And I will let you know about all appointments."

"You promise to take care of yourself." He locked eyes with hers.

"Yeah. I'm going to stay out of the field for a while if Marc lets me. Working at the lab will give me time for some reflection; it'll keep me away from crime scenes with armed suspects."

Grissom spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Sara. I took you for granted. Didn't know how much I was hurting you, but didn't pay that much attention either. You deserve better."

She couldn't control the tears. She let them fall down her face and turned away when the nakedness of her emotions proved to be too much.

He got no reply so he stood up. Pulling the bags out from under the table, he waited for her to acknowledge him, but she kept her face averted. Finally he nodded and left. If was only after she could feel his absence that she dropped her face into her hands and wept.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

This time, Thomas came looking for her. She looked up and found him standing in front of her, glaring.

Her brows rose. "Yes?"

"They haven't come for her."

"Attica?

"Hope!"

Sara sighed. It was clear that she was going to have to pick her battles. "It has only been two days."

"They haven't even called to arrange a pick-up. I haven't heard from her parents or the police."

"It's okay, Thomas. I'll call and find out what's going on."

He nodded. She blinked when he didn't move. "Thomas, go away. I'll call when I am done reviewing this file."

He wore a frown, but reluctantly left her alone. She watched his retreating back and wondered if anyone thought that she was a little too intense when she first started out.

………………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	8. chapter 8

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: Hi! I am glad you are all still with me. It looks like resolution time, but I don't think so, not so much anyway. I want to say thanks to everyone who reviews. Other authors have fancier systems of appreciation such as employing automated or personal replies or publicly acknowledging reviewers in the A/N. I am afraid that I do not have such a system. Don't have a lot of extra time on my hands. What I use on fanfiction is time stolen from other parts of my life. I will continue to acknowledge my appreciation more generally, and I hope that this meets your satisfaction. Anyway, I love hearing from you so I hope you continue to feel inspired to comment.

In other news: I want to thank Marlou in advance for her beta work. One of the nicest people, I love talking to her on AIM.

Sheila

**Chapter 8**

**Hope Springs**

"Hey, is everything all right?" Grissom spoke in low tones into his cell, hidden away in his office.

"Everything is good here." Sara sounded almost mechanical.

"Any difficulties? I've been reading on the possible problems in the second trimester. Are you eating a balanced diet? You are a vegetarian and probably should up your protein intake. Beans, cheese, nuts, peanut butter. But you know that. Are you taking any supplements in addition to the prenatal vitamins? I didn't know so I sent some in the mail. Organic. I researched them."

"Yes, thank you. Did I tell you I appreciated the special pillow and back support you sent me last week or the baby name books you sent the week before or…"

"It's too much, isn't it?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I've never been fawned over before. I don't know what to think about it all."

Grissom grew silent for a moment. He spoke as if realizing a new truth. "Not even when you were a kid."

"My parents were a little preoccupied with booze, anger and violence. I…didn't seek their attention."

He spoke softly to her. "We make this our opportunity to break that cycle."

Sara didn't answer. Grissom waited for her voice, but the silence only grew. "Sara?"

"Yeah. It's good. I gotta go. Talk to you…tomorrow, if you want." She hung up before he could respond.

Grissom groaned into the dial tone and shook his head hard in frustration. Nothing he said ever seemed to help.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Thomas didn't need to prompt her this time. It took her three wrong phone calls, but finally she got a detective on the phone who was working Attica's case. "Sara Sidle. I'm calling from San Francisco about Attica Jones."

"Yes. I'm the detective on the case."

"Detective Bellecourt, I am a little concerned. It has been two weeks, and no one has come to pick up Attica's remains."

"Yeah, we're having a problem with that. It's unclear as to who had custody of Attica before her disappearance."

"Excuse me?"

"Attica was taken from her mother due to safety concerns four months before she disappeared. The county placed her with a foster family. The foster mom says that her social worker authorized a relative to take Attica for a weekend about ten days before she disappeared. The relative, a cousin of the mother, says that she had Attica for only a day before the mother picked her up for visitation. Mom says she returned the child to the cousin. The cousin says that this never happened and that mother dropped her off with the foster mom. The foster mom says that the last time she saw the child was when the cousin took her. It took them two weeks to notice that nobody actually had Attica anymore, and that only happened because the social worker's cases were audited by the state."

Sara swore into the phone.

He chuckled. "I am with you, Miss Sidle. But no one is going to pick her up until we know who is the most culpable for this girl's death."

"She can't just sit here. It's…she deserves someone who can care about this."

"I would come myself, but South Dakota doesn't put much money into public safety services. There is nothing in the budget to send me."

She sighed. "How much time do you need?"

"I'll call you by the end of the week."

"Thank you, Detective."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

She picked him up at the airport. He offered to take a cab, but she insisted. Said she needed help with an errand. She smiled at him, and so he engaged in the small talk that he rehearsed during the flight. He began with a story about catching Sofia in a mistake that almost contaminated evidence. He explained that Greg was teasing her mercilessly, and that he wouldn't stop him because Sofia had done such a poor job of owning up to her error. She smiled a little, and so he followed up with some gossip about Nicky dating a showgirl at the Sands. She rolled her eyes knowingly for him. Encouraged, he finished up with Ecklie's most recent rant on lab procedure. She had several choice comments about Ecklie. Grissom almost felt comfortable. He chuckled at her rants. Then he asked her about work, and she launched into a critique of crime scene protocol, and how she almost had Marc convinced to prioritize the scene in the order they had it in Vegas. Grissom agreed with her thinking and offered to speak to Marc. She laughed, assuring him that she was up to the task.

When she stopped the car, they were in front of one of those oversized discount stores with a parking lot the size of the Astrodome. The store was huge and bright, and devoted only to baby things. It was not the kind of place he liked and he almost offered to take her somewhere with smaller shops, maybe some antique items or handmade goods. Then he remembered that she once expressed distaste for shopping, and he wondered if she wanted to be at this store in order to get as much done with as little effort as possible.

When she walked around the car to join him, he noticed, for the first time, the distinct changes in her body. She wore a shirt that stretched at her fuller bosom, and then tented over her waist, evidence of growth just beginning to assert itself. Her posture had changed, and her back was curving as compensation to her widening midriff. He wanted to stop her in the parking lot and ask her to turn around so that he could admire her new body. His edgy, lanky Sara had always been beautiful, but now she had taken on the remarkable task of growing this miracle and he found himself awed by her emerging softness.

She sensed his preoccupation and stopped in the middle of the parking lot. "Gil, do you want to see?" She grinned. "You know, for your research, of course."

He nodded and she pulled her shirt up slightly and reached for his hand. The curve on her warm skin had grown. He closed his eyes and imagined that she was laying on his bed, and he was beside her using his hands to shape her belly, caressing it, whispering to it, sharing in the experience of caring for and incubating this life. He almost groaned aloud at the longing for such an opportunity. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him. Her hand gently removed his and she began walking toward the store without him.

Taking in a deep breath, he settled his emotions and followed her. In the store, she turned to him with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Maybe it is sort of early in the game to come here. I'm only four months along, but I want to begin to know what all of this stuff is."

"It's a good idea, Sara." If nothing else, he could reassure her on all things.

Suddenly she looked lost as she gazed at the over lit warehouse displayed before her. "I don't know what to think about except a crib and a car seat."

He put his hand protectively on her shoulder, praying for her tolerance. "Well, that's a good place to start."

Sara nodded and led them to the furniture section. A sea of cribs stretched out before them. She stood and pondered the different choices, but she did nothing else. He wanted to say something, again reassure her, but he could see the color rise in her face. Confused, he stood frozen beside her for a few moments, and then not knowing what else to do, he waded in amongst the cribs, and began reading tags, disclaimers, and testing bars for soundness. He absorbed himself with comparison shopping for some time, giving her space to settle herself again. Then he found her leaning over his shoulder, looking at the same tag he was reading. He smiled, but didn't look back.

After an hour, he stood up and looked at her. "There are some good choices here; though none of them are without fault. Is there a model that you particularly like?"

Her eyes widened. "I honestly don't know."

He surveyed the choices again with his eyes and turned to her. "Sara, let me take care of this. I will do all the research necessary, and find a good, sturdy crib that addresses all of our safety concerns. I promise you that there will be a crib in your apartment within the next month."

She nodded at him. "Thank you. I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't seem to make simple decisions."

"Hormones?" He ventured carefully.

She sighed. "Probably. Maybe. I see myself as incapable…unqualified to make these choices."

"From what I have been reading, your fears are nothing unique. Parenthood is a daunting task, particularly for those of us who didn't have great experiences with it growing up."

"You have really been patient with me, Grissom. I keep thinking that any minute you're going to walk away from this, but you don't."

Grissom looked down. "Sara, I have a lot of faults, and people often feel they need reams of paper on which to list them all, but I will never walk from you or this baby."

She creased her brow. "Grissom, how many times have you already done that? Don't promise not to walk away from me. You have already done that plenty of times. Just focus on staying in your child's life."

He started to respond, but she put up a hand in frustration, shook her head, and walked away from him. He didn't follow. He knew she would need a few minutes before they could ride in the same car. Instead, he turned back to the cribs, determined to start making better choices in life.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Let me see it again."

Sara handed Matthew the grainy black and white photo.

Matthew pointed at something and smiled at her. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I think so. The doctor thinks so. Only Grissom refused to see it. I think he wants a girl."

"How is my new friend?"

Sara chuckled. "I tell you, Matthew, when you take on a new project, you really pick 'em."

"He has a lot of goodness in him. I can feel it."

"He hasn't been good for me." Sara shook her head slowly as she gazed down at her steaming herbal tea.

"But he's growing. Even you can see that."

"And it took me getting pregnant with his child. Grissom loves control. It makes me wonder if he just needs to be here for the chance to have influence over his child."

Matthew sputtered green tea across the table and looked at her crossly. "You know better than that. Grissom likes control, but frightened people always like control. If anyone is the monster in this story, you are."

"What!" She pushed her chair away from the table.

Matthew was on his feet, reaching for her. "No, no, no. I said it wrong. Sit down. Nobody's a monster."

She glared at him as she slowly reseated herself.

"Sara, listen to me. You might not have control, but you have a lot of power in that man's life. Green Eyes told us all about it."

"His name is Warrick!"

Matthew scrunched up his face. "I realize that, Sara. But he is far too attractive to just be able to waltz into Marc's life."

"Okay, Warrick is not waltzing into anybody's life." She threw her arms up. "He was here to support me."

"Sara, you stick to the whole 'loving emotionally unavailable men' thing and I'll stay with the whole 'gay man protecting his territory' thing. This War-rick is a nice man, intelligent, handsome, and good. But he is not getting near my boyfriend without an escort. Capiche?"

"Okay." She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"But tell me about Gilbert. How did he do at the appointment?"

"Gilbert!" She grabbed her head with both hands. "Oh Matthew, you slay me."

"I shouldn't call him that?" Matthew cocked his head.

"Sweetie, I think you should go ahead and call him whatever you want." She couldn't suppress a sly smile.

"But he did okay, right?"

Sara shrugged. "He's really trying. But I'm having the hard time. I'm waiting for it to get too intense for him. I am waiting for him to run."

"Warrick Green Eyes says that he had a very hard time after you left town. He says that Grissom literally chased away candidates for your position. He started having migraines after you left. Drinking. Impossible to work with. The guy really loves you, Sara."

Sara shook her head. "He just doesn't like not getting his way."

"I don't think so."

She looked away.

"So tell me how he touched your heart at the appointment."

"You're assuming—"

"Just tell me."

She dropped her face into her hands and spoke through her fingers. "He brought a notebook full of questions for the OB-GYN. Kept her in the room for an hour. Interrogated her mercilessly on a good prenatal diet, exercise, hair dye, kitty litter—"

"You don't have a cat."

Her head shot up, and she lifted her arms in amazement. "Doesn't matter. Apparently, he thought it was within the realm of possibility that I might get a cat."

Matthew rested his face on his hands. "That's pretty cute, Sara."

"I know." She said miserably into her cooling tea.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grissom had an ultrasound picture in his shirt pocket. He didn't pull it out unless he was alone. Sometimes he snuck into the locker room just for the opportunity to pull it out and look at it under the bright lights in the bathroom. He wasn't ready to concede that this child was a boy. A boy sounded like more responsibility for Grissom. There were things that a father was supposed to teach a son. A girl was someone he could protect, but the teaching he could leave to her mother. Sara clearly had more skills to relate to a child than he did. Still the picture, even with its suspicious appendage made him smile.

So he was a man with a secret, but it was different than all of his other secrets. This one didn't settle quietly within his psyche, another testament to the mystery that is Grissom. Rather, this one left him bursting with excitement. It was surprising how this secret refused to rest. It pulled and pounded at him every waking moment, demanding his constant attention. He found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

As so often happened these days, he found himself in a room, not remembering how he got there. The break room was full of staff at this time of the night as swing shift rotated with night shift. So many faces he had known for years, Warrick, Greg, Nick, David, Doc, and a few newer faces like Hodges and Mia. He turned back to the hallway and saw Catherine huddled in conversation with Brass over a case file.

A compulsion seized him and he strode over to Catherine and Brass. "Hey guys! I need you in the break room for a minute."

Catherine began to protest, but he was already herding them into the crowded room. Brass passed into the room staring at Grissom with a surprised look on his face.

Grissom waved his hands in the air. "Ah, can I have everyone's attention, please?"

People stopped talking and stared at the spectacle of an animated Grissom.

He took a deep breath. "I know everyone is busy, and I only want to take a moment of your time."

Hodges curled up his lip. "Is this a fire drill?"

Grissom ignored him and looked out on the crowd of friends and colleagues gathered before him. He knew he needed to start quickly before the uneasiness brewing in his gut burst forth. "I, um, am friends with some of you, and acquaintances with others. However, I work in close proximity to all of you and want to share a piece of news with all of you."

He saw Warrick nodding at him approvingly. "I have had a tough time lately, these past few months, and…some changes have come my way."

The room was still, everyone focused intently on his words. He realized that there was no turning back. So, he pulled the ultrasound out of his pocket and held it up. "Um, this is a picture of my child."

He proudly displayed the black and white abstract to the room. For a moment, nobody moved. Catherine pushed away from where she had been leaning against a counter. "You're having a baby?" she asked for the room.

"Well, um, someone is. In fact," He worried his lips for a moment. "Sara is the one who is having the baby."

"Your baby?" Doc Robins was looking at him over the top of his glasses.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Yes, this is a fact. Sara Sidle is pregnant with my child."

"You dog!" Nicky was the first to stride over and slap him on the back.

Hodges' brow creased. "Isn't that illegal?"

Warrick glared at him. "Really?"

"Was she employed at the time?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and your mama was too."

Hodges rolled his eyes and looked away.

Brass came up with a wide grin on his craggy face. "Didn't think you would ever wise up, Gil. Good for you."

Catherine gave him a big sloppy kiss on the mouth and then grabbed the photo out of his hand. She brought it over to a strong light, and Doc, Mia, and David gathered around it, pointing and exclaiming. Nick wore a 1000 megawatt smile, and paraded around the room as if he himself was the father.

Greg came over and looked at Grissom with eyes narrowed. "I'm happy for you…and Sara. Be good to her. She deserves happiness." Of all people, Grissom suddenly felt intimidated by Greg. He nodded solemnly at the young man whom he had so often underestimated. Greg nodded back at him and then left the room.

"It's a boy!" Came an exclamation from the group huddled around the ultrasound. Catherine turned her head his way, and grinned wildly as she waved the photo at him. For the first time in a long time, Grissom felt like doing nothing more than laughing out loud.

…………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	9. chapter 9

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: We are angsting away. No easy resolution for this bunch. Sorry. My mind works in epic form only. I hope that you will stay interested. I am getting mail and reviews from new readers, and it is exciting to meet new people. I know the whole Sara pregnant thing is derivative as is the poor littlegirl. Still I am trying to build something unique, something compelling, and I hope I succeed. Your support has been amazing. Thanks!

Thank you to the incomparable Marlou for her beta work.

Sheila

**Hope Springs**

**Chapter 9**

Sara creased her brow at the cell when it erupted at the lab. Grissom was clear about her schedule, and went to great pains not to call her at work. She picked up the phone and winced at the number on caller ID. "Catherine?"

"Hello, Stranger. How are you?"

"Good. And you?" Sara resisted the urge to ask Catherine how the hell she ever got this number.

Catherine gave a throaty laugh. "Well, I'm not the pregnant one."

Sara's eyes widened. "So Warrick told you?"

"He knew?" Catherine's voice lowered.

"He didn't tell you?"

"Okay. Enough of the twenty questions, Sara. You're pregnant. I got it from the horse's mouth."

"Grissom? Grissom told you?"

"He told the whole lab…at once."

Sara's mouth dropped. "You're kidding!"

"In front of God and everyone, he showed us all the ultrasound. He was every inch the proud papa."

Sara found that she was choking on emotion.

"Sara? Are you okay? Are you mad? I mean, we were going to find out about it at some point, anyway."

Sara swallowed. "I can't believe he opened up like that."

"He was a very brave boy. You would have been proud."

"We're not together, Catherine."

"Maybe not now, but if he continues all this self improvement, he's going to be pretty hard to resist."

Sara laughed in spite of herself.

"Listen Girl, there's going to be a shower. A big one! Every geek at this lab is going to be there. I guarantee it. And I'm going to tell them all what to buy."

Sara smiled into the phone. She suddenly wished she was there, sitting with Catherine, having one of their rare, but rowdy girl talks. "It's nice to talk to you."

"I'm thinking that we're going to get a party room at the Stardust. I know someone. Full bar. You're okay with that, right?"

"Sounds great."

"Give me some dates."

"Work it out with Grissom. He's very into knowing where I am every moment of the day."

Catherine laughed. "Like I said, he's getting pretty hard to resist, isn't he?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

The first few mornings he went to sleep, he didn't understand the dreams. There was always a baby and a mother. The baby smiled and the mother reached for her. He was there as well, and at first, he was smiling. The baby smiled and the mother hugged her tightly. And slowly, his smile faded. The longer he looked to (at) them, the sadder and more deeply troubled he became. He wanted to hold them and he put his arm out, but he could never quite touch them. Each night, he woke, breathing heavily, anxiety gripping his gut.

The fourth morning he came home, exhausted from a hard night and much interrupted sleep. Without bothering with breakfast, he wandered into his bedroom and shed his shirt and pants. Wearing nothing but boxers, he slipped under the covers. Within seconds, weariness overcame him and he fell into a drugged sleep.

Again the dream came. The mother and baby were happy, but he couldn't reach them and no matter what he did, they were always beyond him. A sadness washed over him. He looked at the beautiful mocha skinned girl as she nestled her head into her mother's neck. She smiled at her mother, and the sight of her almost choked him. He tried everything he could to just touch her, talk to her, reassure her about her mother. Then the child turned her face and looked him in the eye. The shout that exploded within him sounded like a bark. He was sitting up, breathing as if he had sprinted a mile. He ran his hand over the perspiration on his face, and something akin to nausea rumbled in his stomach. The red digits on his alarm clock flashed 12:30 p.m. He groaned as he realized that he had only been asleep for 2 ½ hours. He fell back on his pillow in frustration, and he closed his eyes again, hoping that sleep would somehow return. He tried to relax again. Images of his dream flashed in and out, and he wondered why he couldn't reach his child or recognize Sara. More images flashed, and it struck him. He was sitting up again, blinking hard at the realization of what he was dreaming. Hunched over, he understood that sleep was no longer an option. Images of her grew until he knew that she couldn't be ignored.

He dragged himself through a shower, and downed coffee as if it were medication. It took only three calls to homicide before he had the information he needed. In a t-shirt, jeans, and ball cap, he headed out to his SUV. It took 45 minutes for him to reach the isolated neighborhood at the edge of North Vegas. In sharp contrast to his own neighborhood, this one was yellow and gray. There were almost no attempts at growing grass or other plants in this part of town. Houses were small, dusty boxes and lawns were graveyards for children's toys and old cars. Almost every house was surrounded by a chain link fence. Several yards had large, wary dogs chained to posts. The heat of the midday sun shimmered on the black asphalt as he stepped out of his truck at an address at the end of the block. The house was a faded pink, and the yard was littered with broken toys. He stood beside the truck, not sure that he could actually go up to the door. Wind was blowing hot, and for a few minutes, he stood there as the wind massaged his face. The front door opened and a little hand appeared through the screen door, pushing it out. She walked onto the stoop wearing an orange, faded sun dress. Her hair was untended and wild about her head. Her small feet were bare, and she stepped gingerly down the concrete steps onto the sandy lawn. She knelt by a pile of sand and leaves, and began to play. A matchbox car appeared out of one pudgy hand and was deposited at the top of the pile. Grissom realized that he was almost holding his breath while he watched her. Her legs outstretched around the mound, she dug in, destroying it and then building it again. The wind whipped at her stiff curls and the sun beat down, but she ignored all of it, intent on her creation.

Grissom walked up to the gate, trying to think of a way not to startle her, but her eyes were up and looking at him before he even got there. Her blueberry eyes in contrast to her mocha skin were startling. He expected that she would be scared of a stranger and he hesitated to enter. She didn't move, just staring at him. Finally he pushed open the gate gently and smiled at her. "Hi honey. Is your grandmother inside?"

The child didn't move, but her eyes followed him every step he took.

"You just play, Lucy. I'm just going to go in and talk to your grandma."

Her head swiveled as she followed his movement up the steps to the door. Grissom banged lightly on the screen door, keeping one eye on Lucy Bell. There was no response. Puzzled, he tried again, knocking louder. Again, there was no response. Gently, he pulled open the door. "Mrs. Phillips. This is Gil Grissom. I just wanted to check in on you."

Inside, the house was stale and quiet. Dirty dishes and leftover food sat on the counters. The carpet was thick with yellow sand. Toys were strewn about the room. At one end, there was a tattered, sunken couch in front of a TV showing a soap opera with no sound. "Mrs. Phillips. Please. Are you home?" He was careful to step around the debris. "Mrs. Phillips, I understand if you don't want to talk to me. Just let me know that you are okay, and I will leave you alone. I am just here to see how you and Lucy Bell are doing."

He turned down a hallway, and immediately saw legs stretched out the door of the bedroom. He trotted over and kneeled beside her. A rush of fear filled him as he imagined her to be dead. But a hand on her arm quickly found her warm. A smell of stale booze rose off her. He grunted and leaned back, squelching the nausea rising in him. Somehow, the smell of this drunk woman hit him harder than a dead body stuffed away in a tool shed for a week. The sour smell of vomit mingled with the sharp stench of urine. Scrunching up his face, he leaned in and shook her shoulder. A low moan rose in her throat, but her eyes didn't open. Strewn on the floor in front of her was an empty vodka bottle. Grunting, he turned her on her side so she wouldn't choke on her vomit. Sitting back on his heels, he called 911. Suddenly her hand shot out and grabbed his leg. He pulled back for a moment.

Her voice was hoarse and her eyes never opened. "I'll be fine in a few hours. Go away."

"You need to detox at a hospital."

"No. They just dry you out and send you home." Her voice was as gravelly as the front yard.

"You can't take care of Lucy Bell like this."

"I leave crackers and juice boxes on the couch."

Grissom drew back away from her. "That is not enough, Mrs. Phillips. Lucyneeds a lot more than that."

"Julianne survived just fine that way." She murmured into the carpet.

Grissom suddenly understood why a girl like Julianne would stay in an abusive relationship. He could imagine that she would have done almost anything to get away from her mother.

"Don't let them take her. No more foster care. Julianne hated it."

"Mrs. Phillips, somebody needs to take care of her. She can't live like this."

The woman groaned and nestled her face more deeply into the dirty carpet. "My sister…in Minnesota, she'll come for her. She promised. If I couldn't do it…"

He nodded. "Then she will only have to be in care for a couple days."

"No!" she hissed. "Julianne would hate that. You owe her. Take Lucy Bell until Maura comes for her."

"No, Mrs. Phillips, I am not equipped to watch a child."

"You know nothing about children? Big surprise!"

Clearly, she was hung over more than she was drunk. Suddenly, he wanted to tell her that he was going to be a dad; that he wasn't the detached and neglectful scientist that she saw in the courtroom. But he swallowed and said nothing.

"Maura can come soon. Two days. Do it!" Her harsh rasp echoed through him.

"Mrs. Phillips—"

"They hate me. Social services. Took all of my babies. I only ever got two back. Once they have Lucy Bell, they will never give her back. I know this."

"How do I know your sister, Maura, is healthy and good for this child?"

"She's clean. Never had the trouble like I did. She had kids, grandkids. They're all living good lives now. College. Jobs. Married."

Grissom sat silently, the sounds of distant sirens signaled the approach of paramedics.

She raised her matted head and looked at him. "You took my baby away from me, Dr. Grissom. You didn't help her and you let him kill her. I don't have any other kids in town that can step up until Maura gets here. You have to do it. My sister's number is in the address book on the counter."

Grissom couldn't talk or look at her anymore. He got up, and left her lying in her own urine. He walked out into the hot sun. The sounds of sirens were loud, but Lucy Bell didn't even look up from her play. She probably had heard more than her share of sirens in this neighborhood. He walked down the steps. She heard him, but didn't lift her head, and he stopped beside her and crouched on his heels. "What are you doing, Lucy?"

She looked at him, but didn't answer. He suspected that she was between 2 ½ and 4 years old. His recent research told him that she should have some command of language by now. She returned to her project, digging up the matchbox car that she had buried deeply under sand.

An ambulance pulled up, and paramedics pulled out large kits and marched on the house. Grissom identified himself and led them to the back where Mrs. Phillips was still lying half in her bedroom. He didn't stay with them, but returned to the front yard, and sat with Lucy again. A squad car pulled up and two officers he recognized got out. He waved them over. "This child will need emergency shelter care. Her grandmother can't take care of her right now."

One officer turned and spoke into the radio on his shoulder. Grissom felt a twinge of guilt in his gut, but he had to believe that involving social services was the best place to start. The officer who spoke into his radio came up to him. "It's going to take them an hour or so to get here. Would you like us to take over with the child?"

Grissom looked up. "I'll sit with her. It's okay."

They sat quietly beside one another while Lucy Bell built up another mound dirt to destroy. When the paramedics rolled the stretcher out the front door, Grissom wondered if he should shield her from the sight. But Lucy Bell had only a cursory interest in the proceedings around her. She looked up once when the stretcher rolled by, but didn't seem overly concerned about her grandmother's predicament. An officer came up and again offered to take over and watch her, but Grissom shook his head.

When all the vehicles left, it was only him and Lucy. She continued to busy herself with whatever resources she had on hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom spotted a large beetle scurrying past. Without hesitation, he reached out and snatched the beetle up. He opened his hand and watched the creature squirm as it tried to right itself. Then without thinking, he deposited it on the top of Lucy's mound. Immediately he regretted it as he remembered that very few little girls appreciated bugs. But Lucy sat transfixed by the sight, watching intently as the beetle began to burrow its way into the sand. Suddenly a small brown arm shot up pointing at the insect, and she squealed, "Bunny!"

It startled Grissom and he laughed. "No, Lucy Bell, it's a beetle."

She creased her tiny brow and repeated, "Bunny!"

"Okay. For right now, let's say you're right about the species. But look, Lucy, your bunny is disappearing into the hill you built."

Lucy's head swiveled back to her mound and she saw the last of the beetle disappear inside. Immediately, her hands began digging down trying to locate her new pet. The beetle was able to scramble until it disappeared into a crack in the ground. She looked back up at him with a frown on her round face.

He smiled at her. Suddenly a thought hit him. "Lucy, are you hungry?"

She turned back to her play for a moment until the idea gained ground within her.

"Quackers!" She announced.

Grissom got up and dusted off his jeans. She was already moving past him, trotting up the steps and pulling open the screen door. He watched as she shimmied onto the couch and began digging into a box of animal crackers. Grissom headed for the kitchen determined to find something healthy for her to eat. The smell of rotting food hit him and he opened the refrigerator to find that it had been shut off for some time. Warm, foul air drifted out. He took note of the milk and eggs inside before he slammed the door closed. The cupboards were largely empty except for some Folger coffee cans and microwave popcorn. There was some cereal, but the top was open, and he noted that the bottom of the box had been chewed open, most probably rats. He went back into the living room where the little girl was working on a mouthful of crackers. He walked back into her bedroom and found toddler sizes all over the floor. The crib had a sour smell. It seemed impossible to find something clean and fresh in this house.

He wheeled around and marched into the living room. "Lucy Bell, how about we go out for some real food?"

She looked up. "McDonald's!"

He nodded, figuring he wasn't ready to fight the big battles yet. He swung her up into his arms and slammed the front door to the house hard. Still carrying her, he rooted around in an old Chevy parked in front of the garage and extricated a car seat. He found the seat to be more complicated than he imagined, and it took him nearly fifteen minutes to secure it in his back seat and install Lucy. In the back of his mind, he realized that he should be waiting for social services, but he couldn't picture being at this house for even a few minutes more.

Dust flew as he backed up his SUV and headed away from the neighborhood. He was decided. Before he took her to social services, he wanted to make sure that she was well provided for.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

By the time, he reached the lab, hours had passed. The child was in the back seat sleeping, her stomach filled with chicken McNuggets and French fries. He had stumbled into a McDonald's with a play place, and it amazed him the amount of time she was able to occupy herself crawling through tunnels and down slides. Then he had stopped at a baby superstore and gave two teen-age sales girls some sense of her needs. He let them take over, and practiced patience as they each wheeled carts around pulling all manner of clothes and accessories from shelves. 546 dollars later, he had a new wardrobe in her size.

He pulled the sleeping child out of the back of his truck and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Still sleeping, he marveled at her ability to relax totally in his arms. He assumed the firestorm would start as soon as he walked in those doors, but he didn't care enough to delay it. He grabbed one of the many bags for Lucy and pushed through into the lab.

Judy at the front desk looked at him with surprise but said nothing. As he walked down the hall, techs and other lab personnel stopped as he passed, their eyebrows raised and mouths open. He walked past his own office, stopping only when he got to Catherine's.

She looked up from her desk, and her eyes widened. "Grissom, you have not been answering your phone. Brass is ready to put an APB out on you."

"This is Lucy Bell."

"I know Grissom. Social services is going frantic looking for her. What could you possibly be thinking?"

He stood there silently, the girl snuggling in tighter under his neck. Catherine put her pencil down and sat back. "I understand that the house was terrible. Smells like she hasn't been in a bathtub for some time."

"I thought you could help me with that." He said softly.

She let out a big sigh. "You know, Gil, just when I think I understand you completely, you pull something completely outside anything I ever imagined."

"I have new clothes for her." He thrust the clothes out in front of him.

She pulled out the floral jumpers and pastels shorts outfits and looked up at him. "I am guessing you didn't pick these out."

He shrugged. "They're clean."

She took off her blazer and grabbed her lab coat. Then she reached for the girl. "Here. Let me take her. I'll have Nicky get a basin out of storage and we can bathe her in the shower."

He nodded. "There are more things in the truck."

She transferred the child to her shoulder, and the little girl shivered and her eyes reluctantly opened. Grissom started to follow her, but Catherine stopped him. "You go talk to Brass. They are probably drawing up kidnapping charges as we speak."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Brass' face was red, and he paced back and forth behind his desk, stopping every once in a while to slam his hands down on the desktop to emphasize a point. Grissom sat silently, and let the homicide detective continue his ranting unchecked. He couldn't answer why he had taken the child or why he hadn't at least called in to inform social services.

Finally spent, Brass sat down at his desk. Grissom leaned forward and said, "What do I have to do to become her foster parent?"

Brass narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he was on his feet again, arms waving, complaining that Grissom hadn't listened to one thing he said. Grissom settled back into his chair to wait.

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It was another hour before Grissom had a chance to check on Lucy Bell and Catherine. He found half the lab in the locker room gathered around the little girl. She was sitting on Nicky's lap in a pink flowered jumper while Catherine pulled socks out of plastic bags, and Greg searched other bags for shoes.

Warrick and Mia were arguing about how to do her hair. Mia settled it by taking the comb and hair grease out of his hands, and sitting down next to Nicky. Grissom winced at how hard she pulled on Lucy's hair, but no one else seemed disturbed so he decided to drop it.

"A social worker should be here in half an hour to pick her up."

Heads swiveled and people noticed Grissom in the room for the first time.

Greg looked up. "Hey Boss. I promise to come visit you at the big house. I'll bring cigarettes and gum." Warrick glared at him and he shut up.

Lucy's eyes caught Grissom's and she erupted in a smile. Pointing a finger at him, she exclaimed, "Bunny!"

Catherine smiled. "Yes, he is, darling. Yes, he is."

"Shouldn't her language be a little more advanced by now?" Grissom asked the room.

"Yes, it should." Grissom was surprised to find Doc Robins sitting on a bench next to David. "I looked her over though, and my guess is that her delays are due to a lack of proper stimulation rather than disability. And the trauma of losing her mother has probably regressed her some as well."

Greg freed a box of multi-colored hair bands from a bag and tossed them to Mia who immediately began twisting Lucy's hair into pigtails.

"I also checked her mother's forensic report, and there were no signs of heavy alcohol or drug abuse," Doc continued. "I suspect that she is free of fetal alcohol effects."

"I am allowed to visit her at her foster home." Grissom was startled that he had said this aloud. Confessions were becoming something of a habit for him and he was going to have to be a little more discerning about that.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Your life is complicated enough with Sara pregnant, and not even in the same state. What are you trying to do to yourself?"

Grissom focused his attention on Lucy Bell. Mia had expertly created a head full of twisted pigtails using hair bands with pretty pink butterflies. She looked clean and fresh and healthy. For the first time since he saw her this morning, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. She looked like she had a chance. Lucy wriggled out of Nick's lap, and trotted over to Grissom. "Bunny!" she instructed and took his hand. Grissom looked up in confusion. Catherine shrugged. He let her lead him out the door, and was able to steer her toward his office. He was sure that there would be specimens enough to distract the child until the social worker came.

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She had gotten in the habit of taking the Grissom call every day. It had happened yesterday and today, she still had yet to hear from him. It was nine in the evening, and she knew he was on shift in an hour. It was everything she could do to not call him. But she was resolved to not make that move. It was Grissom's choice to come to her. She just never imagined he would lose interest so early.

She tried to read one of the many childbirth books on the coffee table, but found she much preferred the prenatal and postnatal reading. The idea of childbirth intimidated her. She hoped that her anxiety would not get the best of her when the time came. It was her intention to have this baby with as much courage and dignity as she could muster.

Again she turned her attention to the phone. In her head, she went over scenarios where she would call him with some sense of nonchalance and no sense of expectation. She discarded story after story as contrived until she realized that she would have to wait for him to call or call him herself and acknowledge her interest.

In the end, she found the will to leave the phone alone. She lay in bed and massaged her growing abdomen. Now she had to wear special things. There was a pair of ridiculous pants she purchased that the salesgirl insisted would be a part of her pregnancy attire within the next 2 months. They were monstrously large with a frightening elastic panel in the front. She laid them over a chair in her bedroom and liked to regard them with a rather frightening awe. She settled in with a prenatal book focusing on the third trimester. Alone, she lay with the book and the silent phone placed on her bed next to her.

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She sat up, blinking when her phone finally rang. Grabbing the phone, she lay back down, mumbling a sleepy hello.

"Sara?"

"Grissom."

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Just fine. And you?"

Grissom hesitated. "It's been an interesting week."

"Our first Lamaze class is tomorrow night. You're still coming, right?"

"Yeah…about that. Things have gotten complicated at this end."

Fear gripped her gut and she found herself unable to respond.

"Sara? Listen, it's not what you think. Julianne Phillips' child, Lucy Bell…I found her at her grandmother's house, neglected. She's in care now, and her grandmother is in detox."

"You're aware that the Lamaze is important?"

"Of course, I do. I have scheduled to be in San Francisco the entire month of September because I think it is so important. Berkeley confirmed. I am teaching three days a week until you deliver, and then family leave kicks in…for how ever long you want me there."

Sara began to relax. "If Lucy is in care, why can't you come?"

"She has a court date tomorrow afternoon. I want to make sure she is well taken care of."

"Okay." She kept her voice steady.

Grissom felt her anger. "Sara, tell me what you are thinking."

She sighed. "It will always be something. We both know that. We are both the same kinds of people in that regard. You will always be able to run off to something that feels just as important. It will become easier and easier to justify after a while."

"It's not like that. I owe this child something. I'm responsible…"

"You owe me and our child something as well." She took in a deep breath. "Look. Do what you gotta do. I know that this is important. I know how hard this has been. But you have to remember that you're not making decisions for just yourself now. Every decision you make impacts us and vice versa."

"I understand."

"I don't know. Maybe I'm frustrated because it feels like the commitment is different for women. I know that I have to change everything. I know that I have to narrow the focus of what I care about so that there's always enough room for this child to be number one."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I never thought about that."

She suddenly felt very tired. Still holding the phone to her ear, she rolled onto her side and curled up under her comforter. "I know this is important. I want you to do this. You need to heal. I understand that. Take care of Lucy. But be honest with yourself, Grissom. If the pressure of this pregnancy is getting too much, if this is not what you really want, I need you to tell me, tell us…so that we can learn not to expect anything again. We deserve that."

He started to responded, but emotion welled up in her, and she couldn't continue. "Bye." She breathed softly and ended the call, holding long enough so that the phone went dark.

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TBC


	10. chapter 10

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: So I got busy and am late with this. My sincerest apologies. I like this chapter. I really do and I hope you do too. I appreciate your feedback, so let me know what you think.

As always, I want to thank the wonderful Marlou for being a beta for this chapter.

Sheila

**Hope Springs**

**Chapter 10**

The looks she got surprised her. After all, this was San Francisco. One very pregnant woman gave her a raised eyebrow, and so Sara flashed her a big smile. She reached for Mark's hand and squeezed tightly. He in turn took Matthew's hand, and the three of them headed for the back of the room. Matthew dropped a mat onto the floor, and Sara kneeled down with Mark's help. Her pregnancy was growing, and she was amazed at how awkward she had grown. She felt almost as if she were lopsided.

Mark and Matthew were eager stand-ins, but she wished Grissom was here. The daily phone calls, the attention he was giving her, it had all given her hope for something new. A familiar sadness was beginning to weigh on her again, and she struggled not to let it interfere with her focus.

She felt nervous in this first class. Lamaze made it all feel so real. She dreaded the childbirth video she imagined would happen in this or one of the other classes. She wasn't looking forward to viewing such a naked experience with relative strangers.

The class was starting to fill up with more and more expectant mothers and their partners. Matthew seemed to relish his role as a Lamaze partner, and was shaking hands with mothers and making comments on their pregnancies as if he had been mentoring pregnancies all his life.

A beautiful strawberry blonde with dark glasses entered the room and looked around. Sara caught a glimpse of her through the many bodies milling around and squinted. The woman caught her eye and headed in her direction. Sara's eyes widened as the woman approached. The woman pulled off her glasses and flipped her hair off her face.

"Catherine?" Sara's eyes were wide.

She opened with her trademark smile. "God, Sara, it was hell finding this place."

"Why? What are you doing in San Francisco?"

Mark and Matthew wandered over with interest.

Catherine looked around for a chair, sighed, and then carefully settled herself onto the floor. "Well, I was in the break room this afternoon, and Gloomy Gil came in wearing his best suit. Said he had to make a court date. With a little prodding, he admitted that he left you high and dry at your first Lamaze so I told him he was going to go to hell. He didn't appreciate my candidness. Several sharp exchanges later, he was booking a flight for me to Frisco and arranging to have my shift covered."

Sara shook her head. "I don't understand."

She rolled her eyes. "I have come here as an emissary from the bugman. I am to participate with you and then return and transfer all my knowledge to his royal idiocy."

"You're kidding?"

Catherine laughed. "He booked me first class, and loaded me down with cash. After class, I have strict instructions to take you out to the best place in town for dinner. There apparently has been some concern about your iron intake. He's been reading."

Matthew reached in. "Hi, I am Matthew Stone. This is my partner, Mark Capistrant. Are you the exotic dancer?"

Mark slapped the back of his boyfriend's head.

"What! Sara said she were proud of her past." Matthew put some distance between himself and his boyfriend.

Catherine smiled. "In fact, I am and I like a man who doesn't mince words."

"We're having quite a party now." Mark noticed the stares they were getting from the others in the room.

"Okay, so this is how we play it," Matthew pulled them into a conspiratorial huddle. "Catherine, you are Sara's possessive girlfriend. Mark is the sperm donor and father. I am the handsome but slightly jealous boyfriend. We could get a lot of mileage out of this, right?"

"And then next week when Grissom shows up and the rest of us don't?" Sara cocked her head.

"It establishes you as a complex and multi-layered mystery."

"Or as a woman who has no idea who the father is." Catherine winked at him.

"Those two were made for each other." Mark said to Sara who shook her head slowly in wonder.

Sara looked at her posse. "This is how we are going to play it. Matthew, you play the part of the neurotic gay man who lets his imagination run wild. Catherine, you play the part of the peace offering with control issues who plans to take over the role of father in this class. Mark, you play the part of the only person with any sense of reason. And I'll play the part of the panicked pregnant woman who marvels at how her life took this crazy turn."

"Sounds about right." Matthew said.

The instructor was waving her arms trying to get the attention of the room. Reluctantly, everyone took a place on the floor and several groans were palpable as she rolled the dreaded TV/VCR to the front of the room.

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Grissom kept expecting Lucy's grandmother to storm into the courthouse yelling at the judge to arrest him for allowing Lucy to become part of the system. Every time the doors opened, he found himself swiveling his head to get a look at the person coming in. And each time, he breathed an audible sigh of relief when it wasn't Mrs. Phillips.

Lucy was a couple of rows up, seated with an emergency care worker. Despite the woman's best efforts, she couldn't keep Lucy contained. She stood up, jumped up and down, and made faces at the people seated behind her. Grissom caught her eye and she pointed. He half expected her to yell, 'Bunny!', and was relieved when she settled on a more generic squeal. It still caught the attention of the room, and Grissom blushed a little as he put his finger to his mouth and urged her silence. She tried to wriggle out of the woman's arms, but the worker held her tightly, and pulled out some animal crackers. The child grasped them and slid down into her chair.

The social worker was worn and grey. She wore a peach cotton pullover and khakis and looked more like she belonged behind the counter at a gas station than in a court room. She spoke with familiarity to the judge, and asked for nothing more than temporary foster care with a review in 90 days. It was granted quickly; the judge not even taking the time to ask questions or review the file. Grissom was stunned. Family court was a completely different animal than criminal court. No objections. No motions. Just five minutes of cooperation between the social worker and the judge with no family appearing and no lawyer on their behalf.

The court room was nearly empty during the proceedings and so the social worker immediately noticed Grissom standing in the aisle, waiting for her. "Ms. Revoy, can I have a moment?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You must be Dr. Grissom."

He nodded, slightly surprised at her familiarity. "I came to see Lucy. Wanted to make sure that she was being taken care of."

The woman snorted and stuffed her files into a worn, brown leather satchel. "I was expecting you."

The child wrestled away from the shelter worker and scrambled into the aisle. She slipped past the social worker and ran for Grissom. Before he could react, she was hanging onto his pant leg. "Bunny!"

He reached down and picked her up. She perched on his torso and grabbed for his beard. He shifted her to the other arm as a distraction and spoke to the worker. "Can we talk?"

"Down the street, there is a coffee house with a play room. Let's talk there." The woman gestured with her head and he followed.

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"She always seems to call me Bunny." He took a sip from a steaming cup of dark roast.

"She isn't yet differentiating you from other things in her life. You all have the same label. Developmentally, she should be past that stage. I have an early childhood specialist meeting with her next week. I think there is a good chance that she can catch up to her peers within the next 6 months."

He looked over her shoulder to the room beyond and caught a glimpse of the shelter worker pulling Lucy off a counter she had climbed. "How did you know I would be there, Mrs. Revoy?"

"Jim Brass gave me a heads up. We worked some abuse cases together some years back. Call me Mary." The woman was drinking a mocha with whipped cream on top, and it was all Grissom could do not to wince as she downed the sickeningly sweet coffee.

"Her grandmother asked me to keep her while she was detoxing. I didn't. I thought the least I could do was to make sure she didn't get lost in the system."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Taking care of Lucy until Martha gets out of treatment, huh?"

Grissom narrowed his eyes at her.

She shook her head. "I talked to Martha yesterday. They released her when she refused treatment. I expect she and a plastic bottle of vodka are curled up on her living room couch about now. You don't owe Martha anything."

"I was responsible…I knew her daughter. She died."

Mary Revoy got quiet. For a moment she focused on her mocha, stirring it aimlessly with her finger, "I know what happened. I knew Julianne for twenty years, Dr. Grissom."

He arched a brow. "You were her social worker?"

"Yes, and I was Daniel's and Collin's and Maggie's: all of them the children of Martha Phillips."

"You took them all away."

She nodded grimly. "Yes, at one point or another."

"You don't think she has learned." Grissom focused on her intently.

She chuckled mirthlessly. "No. I court ordered Martha to nine different parenting classes. She never made it past the first day in any of them. She missed court dates, visitations. Once she picked them up for visitation, got drunk, hauled them out to the desert for a party, and then left them in someone's farmhouse. It was two days before someone thought to call and tell me where they were. She didn't come back for nine weeks after that."

"Julianne's siblings: are they alive, okay? Can they step in?"

Mary sighed. "Collin is in the state pen for armed robbery. Maggie disappeared after she turned 17. No one has seen her or heard from her since. And Daniel is a heroin addict. Walks the strip, panhandling for change."

"Nobody cared about any of them." Grissom spoke softly as if discovering an unimaginable truth.

"You're wrong, Dr. Grissom. I cared about them. I went to parent conferences with Collin, and watched Maggie in all state choir. I watched Julianne change from an A student to a truant who was eventually expelled; dropping her off at school every day in the hopes that she might actually go to class. I went to all of their graduations, and I still get letters from Collin and phone calls from Daniel."

"It wasn't enough."

She sighed deeply. "I know."

"Mrs. Phillips mentioned a sister in Minnesota, Maura. She said Maura would come for the child."

Mary Revoy sputtered into her coffee. "Maura is doing no such thing. That woman is as bad as Martha."

Grissom cocked his head. "I heard she was responsible and her children are doing well."

"I think Martha neglected to tell you that not one of Maura's children will talk to her. The daughter has had numerous suicide attempts and has a restraining order against her own mother. I don't even want to know the details."

"So that's it then." Grissom shook his head in frustration.

She put the cup down, but didn't meet his eyes. "The system sucks, Dr. Grissom. Social services is better at protecting children than it is at raising them. Many foster homes are not equipped for the traumas that these children have endured. Case workers like myself only have minutes a week for each one of them because our case loads already exceed federal guidelines by two to three times the amount. Most of us start out caring, but after a few years, it becomes more about surviving the job. I am lucky, I guess. I didn't have my own kids. These babies become my kids. But it's a stacked deck, and a lot of them have been denied too many opportunities to have much of a chance at success."

Lucy had discovered wooden blocks and was tossing them across the room at the shelter worker. "What are you going to do with Lucy?"

Mary rubbed her chin for a moment. "I am not going to try to reunite this family. Even if Martha does dry out, which she won't, she still has poor parenting skills. I want to try for a TPR, termination of parental rights, as soon as possible. Then we can look at adoption. She is young enough to appeal to adoptive parents. A stable living environment is her best chance. She needs to know a home, and know that it will always be there. That's what I am going to do."

"She deserves the best home you can find."

Mary grinned out of one side of her mouth. "You want to give her one?"

"Me?" Grissom blinked. "No, I wouldn't be the right parent for this girl."

"I don't know. You seem thoughtful, patient. Plus Jim says you have a good heart."

"Oh, Mrs. Revoy, I mean, Mary, you have no idea. I work 60-70 hours a week, sometimes more. I am emotionally….separated from much in my life, and it doesn't seem likely that this will change any time soon. I would be the worst possible parent."

"Jim says that you are getting ready to be a parent. Says you have been working very hard on preparing yourself."

Grissom felt a twinge of annoyance. "Jim really had quite a talk with you, didn't he?"

She smiled. "He had to dance a little in order to convince me to let you see her."

He cocked his head at her. "I just want to keep in touch. I want to see her."

"She is going to have to put up with enough people wandering in and out of her life. I am not going to invite you to do that just so you can soothe your conscious about her mother's death."

Grissom was stunned. It had been years since he had felt scolded and he couldn't think of anything to say in his defense.

"If you merely want to know that she is being well taken care of; then do it through me. You won't have to see her. She can move on without wondering when Bunny is coming to visit." She took a sip, her eyes never leaving his.

"I don't know what to say."

"If this is about Julianne, then I absolve you. You can move on. You have to decide if there's something more happening here."

"Mrs. Revoy, I am pretty sure that you don't know me quite as well as you think you do." A sense of outrage grew within him.

"It doesn't matter. This is about Lucy. So you go home and decide what this is about for you."

Grissom sat back and regarded her. He was angry at her blunt reproach, but felt trapped by her reasoning.

"I don't mean to be impolite. You seem like a good man. And I appreciate your concern for Lucy. You just need to understand what that interest is all about it."

He nodded reluctantly.

She got up, clearing her cup and his. She dropped her card in front of him. "Call me when you know what you want."

He watched her pick Lucy up in the playroom. At first, the child struggled, but then settled on Mary's shoulder and began playing with her short, grey curls. The older woman laughed and worked to extricate the chubby fingers from her hair. Grissom felt a longing at the pit of his stomach that he had never before experienced.

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She saw Thomas coming down the hall, and she ducked into an office. She was immediately sorry as she landed in a storage room with no reason for being there. Thomas peeked his head around the door, and looked at her solemnly. "You were trying to avoid me."

She hung her head for a moment and then looked at him. "I guess I was."

He shrugged. "People do that to me sometimes."

Sara felt her face flush. "I'm sorry, Thomas. What can I do for you?"

"They never came for her."

Sara groaned. "Her mother was supposed to come for her last week."

"I called Sioux Falls. The mother won't come. Says the county should pay to bring her home. The county says the mother has custody and is responsible to come get the child. A deputy in the sheriff's office asked me if we could just load her in a box and send her. And I told him no. I told him that Hope was not old enough to travel alone, and then he got really very rude with me, and I was forced to hang up on him."

"Oh Thomas." Sara shook her head.

"Was I really wrong? We should ship that little girl in a box?" Agitated, Thomas folded his arms across his chest and set his mouth in a grim line.

"No, we shouldn't." She took a deep breath. "Thomas, I need you to let me handle this. I'll take care of everything."

His chin trembled a little.

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "I promise. Trust me."

He creased his brow for a moment, but finally nodded. He turned to leave.

"Thomas, do me a favor. Get her ready. I'll have this figured out by tomorrow."

She watched him go and again wondered about the intense young man. He was odd, but he didn't scare her. Yet there was something about him that triggered something in her gut; something she couldn't quite place.

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She pulled her jacket on, and wrapped the long striped scarf around her neck. San Francisco at night could be chilly especially near the bay. The lobby was almost empty, only a couple of seats taken, an evening receptionist slumped in a chair reading a magazine. "Goodnight," she said as she walked past. She heard the rattling of a newspaper, and turned to find a man in the lobby gathering up his things and trotting after her.

"Grissom?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Hey! I was waiting for you."

"What are you doing here?"

He stopped awkwardly before her. "I, um, just wanted to see you. I wanted to apologize again for missing the first class."

"So you got on a plane?"

He steered her toward the door. "You look tired. Let's go get something to eat. We can talk."

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She liked her Pad Thai sweet and spicy with a lime on the side to squeeze onto each bite. Grissom was eating a rather frightening looking Coconut Curry which emanated a smell that wrinkled her nose. They both shared a taste for the spring rolls and they passed back and forth the peanut dipping sauce.

She wondered if he noticed that she had finished unpacking. She wanted him to understand that she wasn't waiting around for him, ready to jump at the slightest opportunity. At the same time, she felt an excitement in her gut. Having him in her apartment felt good; different than the conflicted feelings she had the last time he was here. He regaled her with stories from the lab. She laughed at his descriptions of Greg and his battles with Sofia, and Nick and Warrick's competitiveness. Through the laughter, she felt a pang of loss for her friends, and she wondered if there really had been sufficient reason to leave them all without a proper good-bye.

Grissom cleared the take-out mess, insisting that she sit on the couch and relax. She listened as he tinkered in her kitchen, opening cupboards and searching for things. She curled up and rested her head on the back of the couch, feeling content for the first time in a very long time. The aroma of dark roast wafted into the room, and she hoped he would like the decaf she'd found at a local coffeehouse.

He came in, bearing two cups and she smiled. He settled in a chair across from her. He looked down at his watch and then lifted an eyebrow at her. "It's been 3 hours and 12 minutes, and not a cross word between us."

She chuckled. "I am enjoying it." She shifted a little and felt a kick in her abdomen. The baby had started this only last week, and, despite the discomfort, she loved every second of it. She ran her hand over her rounded abdomen in search of the source. Another one came and she let out a soft 'oomph'!

Grissom sat up and leaned forward. "Everything okay?"

"He's kicking," she smiled. She reached out to him. "Come here."

Grissom slid onto the couch next to her, and she took his hand, placing it firmly on her belly. He leaned over and waited quietly. At first there was no movement and he gave her a puzzled look. "Patience, Grissom." She whispered.

He settled back in, leaning over her abdomen and waited. The fetus did not disappoint. Within seconds, the hardest kick she had felt yet happened. She let out another involuntary noise. Grissom felt it. Still focused on her abdomen, she could sense the smile spreading across his face. He used both hands now, and his ear was all but resting on her skin. She breathed quietly as he waited for more movement. Luckily, the little guy was active, and he experienced several more tremors.

He was so close. She drank in his clean, musky smell. Tentatively and without much thought, she rested her warm hand on the back of his neck. She felt him react slightly, but then relax into her touch. She began to run her fingers through his curls and she thought she heard him sigh. They sat like this for a few more minutes until the baby had completed its dance on her abdominal walls.

He raised his head, and looked into her eyes. She smiled. He looked hesitant, but her hand had never left the back of his neck and she pulled him toward her. Kissing him seemed natural; different than something they had done only twice in eight years. He let her take the lead, and she found that it was hard to pace her passion. Hormones in pregnant women could be powerful. She wanted him in his entirety, and she wanted him now. He perched over her, kissing her softly on the lips, and then trailing his mouth down her neck and behind her ear. She tugged at his shirt, and burrowed under to his thick, warm chest. He stopped and smiled at her as her inquisitive hands explored his torso.

He pulled away from her and stood up. She looked up, her eyes searching his. "Do you want this, Sara?"

She nodded, reaching for him. He grabbed her hands and pulled her upright. "I don't think I have ever seen your bedroom."

He let her lead him down the hallway into her room. Coming up behind her, he lifted her shirt over her head, and then hugged her. Nibbling at the back of her neck, he spread his big hands over her middle and massaged her belly. One hand wandered up and cupped her swollen breasts. She held onto his arms, helping to guide him where she needed his touch. She turned around and pulled at the edges of his shirt. He helped her remove it. She reached for his pants, but he picked her up and slid her gently onto the bed, and climbed up beside her. He took his time, kissing her everywhere, taking special care to stroke and kiss her swollen abdomen. He reached his hand between her body and the mattress and was able to somehow unhook her bra. This time, he let her tug at his pants and manipulate the zipper. He helped her pull them off. She did the same favor for him with her own trousers.

He burrowed his face in behind her ear and whispered. "Sara, you are exquisitely beautiful. I don't think I ever fully believed that a woman like you could want me."

In response, she grabbed his face and brought her mouth to his. He had little control at this point, but when he entered her, it was sweet and slow. He took his time, whispering to her, and kissing her neck and jaw as they came together.

And then they lay together, smelling of sweat and sex. He wanted to talk, he had so much to tell her, but there was an exhaustion between them born of two people who had finally let go of years of pent-up passion. He hugged her tightly from behind and was soon softly snoring into her neck.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

She woke first. His arm still held her protectively. She ran her fingers lightly up and down his forearm. It was a moment she had always dreamed of; laying in his arms, secure and happy. The sex she knew they could do well, this other part she was never that sure of. Her bladder was full; the providence of a pregnant women. She was reluctant to move though because a sleeping Grissom was much less dangerous than a morning after Grissom. She lifted his arm gently and slid off the bed. He stirred but his eyes stayed closed and she breathed a sigh of relief. Not even stopping for a robe, she snuck into the bathroom and closed the door softly. When she finished, she opened the door slowly, prepared to slide back under his arm, but when she walked in, a sleepy eyed Grissom was sitting up in the bed. A lazy smile grew on his face as she stood there. Her face flushed as she realized that she was buck naked. It was one thing to be naked in bed with a man, but she found she was embarrassed to be standing there in her full glory.

"Turn to the side, Sara. I want to see you from that angle."

She started to protest, but she found that she too was curious about her new profile. She turned sideways between him and her dresser mirror. A chill ran through her as she saw the tremendous changes in her body which had begun to take hold. Behind her reflection, she could see him eyeing her closely. She turned and gave him a nervous smile. He beckoned to her and she crawled back onto the bed.

"You're breathtaking as a pregnant woman, Sara."

She lay on her back and he stretched out on his side beside her. He began to gently caress her abdomen and she relaxed. Grissom showed no signs of pulling away.

"I've dreamed of lying beside you like this. It feels nothing short of a miracle."

She closed her eyes and drank in his words. This is what she had always hoped she deserved.

He took a deep breath. "I want to talk to you about something."

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. "Grissom, this was going so well. Let's not ruin it with actual conversation."

He smirked. "Sara, this is serious."

"Me too." She rolled her eyes.

"I want to talk to you about Lucy Bell Phillips."

Sara blinked. "Julianne's child?"

"She's three years old. Very pretty little girl."

She rolled onto her side so she could give him her full attention. "What? Tell me. Is she okay?"

He worried his lower lip. "She's in the custody of the state. The social worker is planning to terminate parental rights."

Sara sighed. "Oh. So Grandma isn't going to be an option?"

He shook his head.

"Other family?"

"No."

"So she's going to be a foster care kid." Sara reached over and caressed his arm in sympathy.

"Social worker is going to look for an adoptive family."

She smiled. "Good. She's young. There are a lot of great families out there looking for kids. It's going to turn out just fine." She squeezed his arm.

Grissom gathered up all his courage. "I think I want her."

Sara's eyes widened. "I don't understand."

"I want her to be part of this family."

Her hand dropped away from his arm, and she sat up, pulling the sheet up with her. "Grissom, what are you doing?"

He shook his head. "Really, Sara, I don't know. I think about her constantly. She's sweet and I think we could raise her well."

Holding the sheet tightly across her chest, she gestured wildly with the other. "We don't even know if we can raise the one we created."

"Sara—"

Her voice rose. "We just spent 12 good hours together, the only good 12 hours outside of work that we have had in 8 years, and suddenly you want to adopt children."

"I'm sorry. This is not the right time." Grissom tried as best he could to unwind the clock.

"There isn't going to be a right time, Grissom. I can't believe this. You were supposed to be focused on this." She grabbed her abdomen. "But you couldn't do that. We couldn't keep you interested. Instead, you are already onto your next project."

"Sara." He reached for her but she pulled away. Sliding off the bed with the sheet wrapped around her, she grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind her.

Grissom got out of bed, and threw on his own clothing. He went to the door and knocked. "I didn't mean for this to happen. There's room for her and you and our baby in my heart."

"Go away!" sounded the door.

He winced and tried once more. "Sara, if you tell me that I can't adopt Lucy Bell, I won't."

There was silence and the door opened slowly. Her eyes were already red and swollen. "Grissom, I would never tell you who can be in your life. Never. I can't make this decision for you. If you want this child so much, then go for it. She deserves someone to love her."

"I want you and our baby. That's what I want." He was careful to let her have her physical space.

She rubbed at her face. "Why can't anything be simple between us? Grissom, you have to understand. Right now, I am doing the best I can to overcome my own childhood. I am finally in a place where I can begin to picture myself as a mother and you as a father and maybe even something more between us. And then you go and get creative on me. Do you understand how this is not helpful?"

"I'm sorry."

She looked into his face and softened. "I know you are." She threw her hands up. "God, what is wrong with us?"

He shook his head. "If I knew, I would do everything in my power to fix it, I truly would."

She put her hand up. "Okay. No more fighting. Let's just have a nice breakfast, and I can drop you off at the airport."

"I should stay."

She shook her head slowly. "No. We can't solve this right now. We both need time to think."

He closed his eyes. "I didn't want it to be like this. Being with you is very important to me."

Her eyes watered, and she moved forward. Then she was hugging him and he was hugging her back tightly. For a moment, he rocked them back and forth, doing everything in his power to keep her in his arms. Eventually, she had to be the one to pull away. She smiled at him sadly and then left him standing alone in her tiny bathroom.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	11. chapter 11

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: Sorry I have been gone so long. It took me awhile to understand what the transitions in this story should be. This is sort of a chapter of transition. Things start to get nuts in the next chapter. I appreciate your patience and hope you can settle in for some more. It's not much of a story if I make it too easy. You know? Thanks again for the feedback I get. It makes a real difference to me.

Thanks to Marlou for her invaluable beta services.

Sheila

**Hope Springs**

**Chapter 11**

Sara pulled her carry-on suitcase behind her until she got to the gate. Recently she had discovered back pain, and the ten minute walk to the gate was something of a struggle. She leaned against the counter, and handed her ticket to the agent. The woman smiled at her in sympathy, looking down at Sara's rounded belly.

"Your first?"

Sara nodded, resting a hand on the increasingly growing mound.

"How many weeks?"

"Twenty six." It amazed Sara how many people asked this particular question. She wondered what they could possibly discern from her answer. She waited for the response she almost always got.

"You don't look twenty six weeks." The ticket agent said.

Sara worked to make her involuntary wince into an actual smile. "Yeah, well I imagine I'll pop out any day. My mother didn't get very big until her third trimester." She was making up the last part. She had no idea what her mother's pregnancies were like, but she found that this response tended to satisfy people.

"Would you like to pre-board?"

This surprised Sara. She hadn't considered the possibility that she represented any type of a special population. Her first instinct was to decline the offer, but she remembered her aching back and the exhaustion that seemed to follow her every step. She thanked the agent and followed her onto the plane. She found her window seat near the back and settled in. Outside it was cloudy and windy. This was her home: San Francisco. She had lived in the bay area for the majority of her life, and yet she felt a disconnect. She almost yearned for the bleak landscape of Las Vegas. All of it so fake and plastic in the beginning, and yet by the time she left, it felt rich and vibrant. She missed the excitement and the exotic energy of the desert oasis of dreams.

She felt a pang of longing as she remembered that she wasn't headed for the desert. Instead, she was on her way to the Great Plains. She had never been to the upper Midwest, and she wondered about the aesthetic of some place new.

Her head settled against the cool pane of the window and she watched workers load baggage onto the plane. Mark and the look of hurt on his face came back to her again.

She went in that morning to talk with him about Attica Jones, the little girl from South Dakota. He had listened politely and then outlined how she could send Attica through a special courier set up by a postal delivery service. She was disappointed, and let him know that she felt the body should not travel alone. Mark had nodded, every moment the sensitive supervisor, and explained that, unless they came for her, there was no other option that wasn't cost prohibitive.

She had listened as she knew she should and nodded politely. Then she told him that she would accompany the body to Sioux Falls. She hadn't expected to say it like that. It sounded so willful. He cocked his head and reiterated the budgetary restraints. She nodded slowly and gave him her notice. Mark looked stunned. Sara felt stunned, and yet strangely relieved. Before he could respond, she spilled it all; her inability to commit to the lab, her constant distractions and absences, her need to better focus her life.

Mark interrupted, or tried, several times. It was no good. Sara was too busy vomiting the concerns that she had been feeling for weeks. It was a confession of sorts, and she found it cleansing. He had hired her because of who she was, not because they needed the help. It was easy to take time because she knew they could afford to lose her.

Mark stopped reasoning with her at this point. Finally he sighed and said, "You don't need to give notice if you don't want. Take a leave. Start your maternity early. We'll make it work somehow."

She shook her head. "No, I think this is the right thing. All the files are caught up. But I need one last favor. I need to stay on staff long enough to get Attica to South Dakota."

"Sara—"

She put up a hand. "Listen, Mark. It's on my dime. I want to take her back. She was so disregarded in life, and now, in death, the apathy continues. Let me take her back like she deserves and make sure she is taken care of there."

He chewed on his lip. "This is important to you?"

"It's a test of some sort, Mark. I feel it. I need to take her home for me and my child."

"I think I can find the cash."

"No. I don't need you to fund what is most definitely a personal journey."

He smiled. "But you can't stop me from funding something that is the right thing to do. Let me in. I insist. When are you going?"

"This morning. Thomas got her ready last night. He, of course, wants to come."

Mark snorted. "That is a very strange boy."

"I told him I would do just fine without him." She smiled.

"Are you coming back, Sara?"

She got up. "I don't know."

"Are you going back to Vegas?"

She shrugged.

"Matthew is going to throw a fit."

"Tell him not to get too excited, I still don't know what I'm going to do next."

He wasn't done fussing. There was a brief argument about not going alone, and then there were the inevitable concerns about traveling during a pregnancy. She expected all of this, and did her best to assure him that she felt safe and strong.

Now that she accomplished all of that with her best friend, she wondered if she could convince herself.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grissom had never gotten comfortable with the TDY. He was not used to his mother having a clear(,) speaking voice, and he found it jarring to have her words come out precise and perfect. He was particularly unsettled on one occasion when a male voice did the translating, and did his best to communicate with his mother by e-mail.

However, Olivia Grissom didn't have the patience for much civility at this point. A woman speaking the distinct accent of Southern California did the translating. "Gilbert, I have had it with your cryptic e-mails. I want to know what is going on."

Grissom reached over and turned off the stereo console in front of him. He leaned back on his black leather couch and sighed. "Mom, it's complicated."

"Are you friends with Sara? Are you communicating with her?"

"Ah, yes and no."

"Gilbert, Please!"

"Look, I don't know what to say, Mom. Some days we get along, some days we don't."

"Whose fault is that?"

Grissom swallowed. "I never seem to say the right thing."

There was a pause, and then the woman came back with, "You are aware that her hormones are—"

Grissom interrupted the interpretation. "Yes Mother, I am aware."

Another pause and then, "Can I help?"

Grissom reached under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I wish you could. I just don't know how."

"I bet she would find me lovely and charming. Might raise your stock a little if I had a chance to meet her."

He chuckled. "There is no doubt about that."

"Set it up, honey. I am dying for a chance to see her."

"I'll call her this week. Maybe she'd be willing to drive down with me to see you."

"You love her, Gilbert, don't you?"

"Yes Mom, I do. I don't know if that is going to be enough, but I do."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The airport in Sioux Falls was almost dead quiet. The only noise was a faint echo of Muzak. The place had none of the energy of a busy terminal; there was (were) only a few people milling about. Her bag was easy to find, but before she could grab it, a large arm reached over and lifted it off the carousel like it was a bag of marshmallows. She turned her head to find a rather large state trooper tipping his hat at her, the suitcase tucked under one burly arm. "Ma'am."

"Can I do something for you?"

"Detective Bellecourt sent me here to get you, Ma'am."

She cocked her head. "You sure you got the right person?"

"I believe so, Ma'am. You are the scientist from San Francisco?"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode down the hallway. She trotted along behind him, wondering if she should remind him of the wheels on the bag, but he was showing no signs of strain so she left it.

"There's a casket with me."

He turned his head to look back at her. "I know. There is a cruiser on the way to pick it up."

She followed him out to a landscape with more sky than she had ever seen before. It was a blue-grey sky filled with angry clouds; lightening flashed in the distance. Wind blew, but there were almost no trees to catch it. Bare, brown hills rolled for miles in every direction, occasionally broken up with what she imagined were old, white farmhouses. The city of Sioux Falls was settled in among these hills, two story buildings and houses dotting the horizon to the west. Sara shivered as lightning began flashing with more frequency. Each bolt cut the sky in half and landed with a loud boom. "Sergeant, looks like you have quite a storm brewing out there."

"Yes, Ma'am, get in. Looks like rain."

Sara slid into the back of the cruiser while the trooper slung her bag into the trunk. Big drops of water hit the windshield as he was climbing into the front. The scent of cheap aftershave wafted back and Sara wrinkled her nose. Within seconds, the drops became torrents, and then it began hailing; chunks of ice banging furiously against the car.

"Seems like a pretty bad storm, Sergeant." All she could see was the back of his thick, sunburned neck.

"Nothing major, Ma'am. Wind's coming out of the south. Should blow over in the next 20 minutes or so."

She sat back and tried to relax as he drove with almost no visibility through the driving rain. The wind blew the rain sideways, and lightening flashed like paparazzi at a premiere. As the trooper so coolly predicted, the rain stopped as suddenly as it started. The trooper pulled into the parking lot of State Patrol headquarters, set alone against a hill, nothing behind it but more hills. She got out and looked around. She felt something lonely and sad in her gut wherever she looked in this quiet land.

"It doesn't look like much, but there's a lot more going on than you might imagine in a place like this."

Startled, she turned to find the trooper smiling at her out of one side of his mouth.

"Miss Sidle!"

She turned to find another man striding toward her. He was tall, his skin was like copper. He was dressed like someone out of a movie, wearing cowboy boots, hair in a long braid down his back, and a sheepskin coat. He extended his hand. "Detective Bellecourt."

"Nice to meet you, Detective. The sergeant here assures me that Attica is somewhere behind us."

He nodded, then looked up at the departing clouds. "Ms. Sidle, take a walk with me, please."

She followed him down a dirt road snaking up into the hills. He slowed his pace, and waited until she was alongside him. "I wish I could tell you that this ugly business was taken care of."

She groaned and stopped, putting her hands on her hips. "Custody is still at issue?"

"Nope. Judge ruled that the biological mother is responsible for her, only she won't respond. Says the county took her away too long ago. Says Attica was no longer her daughter. So she wants nothing to do with her burial."

"And the investigation?"

Detective Bellecourt shook his head. Strands of long, black hair escaped from his loose braid and gathered about his face. "Dead end. Cousin picked her up on Friday. Says she dropped her off on Sunday. Foster mom says she waited all day Sunday, but no Attica. Mom says she was with a guy all day, says she never saw Attica that weekend. Can't remember the name of the guy. Says he was from out of town."

Wind was whipping hair across her face, and she pulled it back. "This is it? No physical evidence of anything?"

"Ms. Sidle, she was gone two weeks before anyone noticed she was missing. We haven't even determined a crime scene."

"She's been sitting in a morgue for 4 months, Detective. Nobody wants her. Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?" She turned away from him, embarrassed by the emotion on her face.

"I think I do, Ms. Sidle." His voice was low and measured.

"I realize that I am acting nine kinds of rude, coming onto your turf, making demands like I am."

He walked up beside her. "Actually, I appreciate that someone is fighting for this child. This state does not tax its citizens. I don't know if I can even begin to tell you how to express to you how understaffed we are. I am doing my best to keep her on my radar, but she's got some heavy competition."

"What do your instincts tell you, Detective?"

Bellecourt took a deep breath and looked out over the bare hills. "I think she was forgotten. I think these women are unwilling to admit that they forgot about her."

"Then someone snatched her up. Someone who knew she wasn't worth much to anyone."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Call me Sara." She wrapped her arms across her chest. The cold air following the storm was penetrating her thin t-shirt and she gave an involuntary shiver.

He took off his coat and offered it to her. She had known him only a few minutes, but she accepted it gratefully. He gestured with his head, and she followed him back to the building.

"Sara," he said as they were walking. "I find myself increasingly curious about this strange guy from out of town; especially since Attica ended up out of town. Thinking about taking another crack at Attica's mom."

"Mind if I tag along?"

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I would be happy for the help."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The handcuffed man was protesting loudly. Deputies were attempting to pull him away from the scene as he proclaimed his innocence to the gathered crime scene crew. Grissom looked up as the man passed, and raised an eyebrow at his pleas. Brass came up behind him. "I love it when they can't even remember to be surprised at the cause of death. Seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him that his wife was stabbed nine times in the chest. He got so tongue-tied when I started asking questions that he had no chance of keeping his story together."

"Well, Jim, he claims he's innocent." Grissom said dryly.

"Yeah, and I wear women's flowered nightgowns to bed."

Grissom groaned. "Thanks for the visual."

Brass glared at him. "Let's just say that Mrs. Miller's idiot husband is going to be the only physical evidence we are going to need on this case."

"Looks like you're trying to put the crime lab out of business with your impromptu confessions, Jim. You want to put my guys out of a job?" Grissom knelt down and closed up his kit.

Brass chuckled. "Oh, if it were so easy. We could leave work at five every day, and play golf on Wednesday afternoons."

"I hate golf."

"Really. Then how do you know so much about it?"

"I caddied my way through high school. That was enough to put me off it for life."

"All right, so we'll go bowling and then sing karaoke in the lounge between sets."

Grissom lowered his sunglasses and gave him a look. Brass chuckled.

The rest of the team was already packed up and out at the trucks. Grissom picked up the heavy kit and started off.

Brass took a deep breath and spoke, "Gil, I spoke with Mary Revoy."

Grissom's back stiffened.

"She says that you have decided to rethink your priorities and you don't think you can make time for Lucy Bell."

Without turning, Grissom mumbled, "I thought confidentiality was a basic tenet of social work ethics."

"You are not her client. Confidentiality doesn't extend to you."

Grissom heaved a big sigh and turned. "Both you and Ms. Revoy made it clear that adopting her was a bad idea. It turns out that I came to the same conclusion."

Brass shrugged. "Yeah, but it just seemed like maybe you were starting to bond with her. Mary thought so too."

Grissom shook his head and started off to the trucks again, but then suddenly wheeled around and strode at Brass until he was inches from his face. "This is not a game. Do you understand? I am doing the best I can. Every move I make is roundly critiqued by just about everybody I know. Even Judy wants to know why I don't bring the little girl in anymore. I am sick and I am tired of wandering through this maze of othe people's expectations. I am doing the best that I can."

"How's Sara?" Brass said despite the color rising in his friend's face.

Grissom exploded. "She's pregnant, Jim, with my child, and I can't seem to stay on her good side for more than a few hours at a time. She thinks Lucy Bell is my way of disengaging from her and the child. Who knows? With me, it's always a possibility. I have no clue. Everything between us is a minefield, and I can't seem to negotiate it without an explosion every other step."

"Whoa, buddy, I didn't know. Sorry. Anything I can do?" Brass backed away a step and the look on his face softened.

Grissom closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Just give me a little space, okay. I gotta figure this out on my own." He picked up the kit without another word, and headed out to his truck. Brass started after him, but Grissom raised a hand without even looking back. It suddenly struck Brass that Gil Grissom was probably the loneliest man he had ever known.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The house sat alone at the end of a dirt road. It was an old house with worn shingles and peeling paint. The front porch was a mosaic of missing clapboards. Sara gingerly stepped onto the boards following Bellecourt up the stairs. The sounds of a TV could be heard inside. Bellecourt knocked on the door. No one came. He knocked again, and gave Sara a grim smile. The sound of TV was silenced, but there was still no answer. Heaving a deep sigh, Bellecourt knocked again loudly. "Marianne, open this door. I know you are in there. I am not leaving."

Again there was silence, and then finally the door opened slowly to reveal Attica's mother. Bellecourt shook his head at her, and pushed by her into the house. She was a petite woman with small blue eyes. Her blonde hair was tightly permed and stiff with hair products. Sara wrinkled her nose as she entered the house behind the detective. There was the stench of stale cigarette smoke. Two large men sat on a battered couch in the living room and glared at them. The room was dim, the only light coming from one single lamp in a corner. A large screen TV sat in the corner, pictures flashing silently.

Bellecourt smiled at the men. "I didn't know you got out, Gerald. How long has it been? We must have locked you up, I don't know, four years ago?"

One of the large men shifted in his seat. "I got just as much right to be here as anybody."

"Absolutely, you do. As long as you keep your nose clean. Who's your friend?"

Gerald shook his head. "None of your business, Bellecourt." Then he turned to his friend. "Don't say nothing to him."

Bellecourt's smile grew. "That's right, buddy. Don't say a single word to me. You never know what could happen. I am the law."

For a moment, the three of them glared at one another. Sara could feel the testosterone floating in the air. Bellecourt turned away from them. "Marianne, where do you want to talk?"

The tiny blonde rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen. Bellecourt nodded at Sara and followed. The kitchen was small and dank. Dirty dishes filled the sink. Sara lowered herself into an ancient kitchen chair. The woman took note of Sara's belly and looked away.

"Marianne, this is Sara Sidle. She brought Attica home from San Francisco."

The woman wandered over to the sink and leaned over it. "Well then, I hope she doesn't mind taking her back there."

"Mrs. Jones, please. Attica needs a proper burial. She has been neglected for so long. You're her mother."

She started laughing into the sink. "I haven't been that child's mother since they snatched her from me 3 ½ years ago. I was barely even allowed visitation."

Sara licked her lips. "Did you try to get her back?"

The woman whirled in her direction. "Who the hell are you? You don't know a damn thing about what I went through with this child."

Sara's eyes watered. "She needs you now."

"Forget it. Let the county take care of her. They're the ones who wanted her so badly."

"Mrs. Jones, if this is about money, I—"

The tiny woman slammed her hands down on the table. "It's not. I don't give a shit about your money. I don't want to hear another thing about that child. Do you understand?"

Sara sat back, blinking in surprise. Her hand fell onto her belly as if in protection. Bellecourt leaned forward. "Marianne, you haven't lost any of your charm, you know that?"

She turned her head. "Shut up, Bellecourt."

He chuckled. "All right, let's get down to business. We're still aiming to find out what happened to Attica. Let's talk about that weekend."

She closed her eyes and dropped into a chair. "I didn't see her that weekend."

"You had a guest that weekend. Correct?" Sara asked.

Marianne screwed up her face. "You think you can come in here to my home like you're better than me."

Sara snorted. "Knock it off, Marianne. Looks to me like you know all about making choices. You are going to answer these questions here or I am sure the detective here can drive us down to headquarters."

Bellecourt grinned. "You go, Sara. How would you like that, Marianne?"

She slumped in her chair. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell us about your guest."

She shrugged. "What do you want to know? He was a cute guy. Met him at the Cattlemen's. Don't remember his name."

"Really. Sort of a one night stand." Sara said.

"No. I really thought I…cared about him. He was special. It just didn't work out."

"What color were his eyes?"

"I don't remember."

"Come on, Marianne. Tell us more. Give us a name."

"Aw, okay. His name was Gary…something…Hanson, I think. Yeah, that's it."

Bellecourt wrote it down and asked a few more questions, but Sara was done. After a couple of minutes, she stood up and told Bellecourt she would wait for him in the car. She walked past the two burly men sitting sullenly on the couch, and walked out into the night. The sky sparkled with stars. It took her breath for a moment. There were stars everywhere and the sky stretched forever. The air was crisp, but she couldn't bring herself to climb into the cab. She leaned against the truck door and looked at it all. There were dreams in every single twinkle, and in moments like these, she could remind herself that anything was possible.

Her reverie was interrupted by the tall detective walking toward her. "You lost interest back there, Sara."

"She was lying. A woman doesn't call a man special and then not remember the color of his eyes. My guess is that he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination."

He pushed his black hair behind his ears. "You think she's lying about seeing Attica."

Sara shrugged. "Who knows? Let's go see the cousin. Maybe she can shed some light."

His eyes widened. "Now?"

"Yeah, you got something better to do."

"Well, my wife and four kids might think so."

She clapped a hand to her forehead. "I didn't even think. I'm so sorry."

"Well, you'll know soon enough." He gestured at her protruding abdomen.

A shiver ran through her as she was reminded of the enormous changes coming her way. She turned her attention back to the night sky. "The sky is so clear here, and there are no tall buildings. I can see constellations in this sky that I haven't seen since I was a child. It's really quite amazing."

He glanced up. "Really? I guess I just take it for granted."

"She's not going to bury this child, is she?"

He snorted. "Would you want her to?"

She looked away for a moment.

"Hey Sara, let's get you set up in a hotel. The Holiday Inn off highway I-90 is the best in town. We'll get up bright and early and go talk to the cousin. I know her pretty well. We went to school together. She was a couple of years ahead of me. Even dated my brother for a couple of months back in their senior year. She might still harbor a tiny bit of goodwill toward me."

She nodded and opened the truck door.

"By the way, Sara. My name is Maurice. My friends call me Mo."

……………………………………………………………………………………

Grissom waited impatiently for his call to be answered. Then a distinct voice sounded in his ear. "Is this Gil?"

"Hi Matthew."

"It is! Well, it's nice to hear from you."

"Actually I was looking for Sara. She doesn't answer at home or at work. She is not picking up her cell."

There was a pause. "Well, you know she quit."

Grissom sucked in some breath. "I did not know that."

"Yes sir, she did. Mark didn't even call and give me a chance to talk with her before he accepted her resignation. I could have reasoned with her. He is out in the living room right now, trying to make the couch into a bed. He should have known there would be consequences."

"I don't understand."

"She isn't feeling connected. He said she reminded him of when she first came back. Sad. Distracted. But she assured him that she was all right."

Grissom was building a visual in his mind of Sara defying the suspect with the gun. Echoes of her confession, 'I don't know that I even cared' pounded in his head. "Where is she, Matthew?"

"She went to South Dakota of all places. Said she needed to take that poor murdered child back home before she was through."

"She's not answering her phone."

He heard Matthew having a muffled conversation with Mark. "Ah Gil, Mark says he talked to her earlier this evening. She says that she is going over the case with a detective, and should only be gone a couple more days."

"She sounded okay?"

"Mark says she sounds okay. A little sad, but okay."

"I don't like this." Grissom whispered to himself.

More muffled conversation, this time with a decidedly sharp tone. Then Matthew returned. "I put Mark on notice. He needs to keep me updated at all times, and I will call you with anything he tells me."

"Do you think he will tell you everything?"

"I'm a prosecutor, Gil. He knows better than to cross a man who punishes people for a living. Sleeping on the couch is only the beginning if my man doesn't get with the program."

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TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

A/N: I found an energy in this chapter that pushed me through twelve pages in two days which is a pretty good average with my schedule. I hope you enjoy. I had to amp it up a little. The good news is that I finally know where it is going. Thanks for the weary travelers who have stuck with this story. Lord knows you are a patient bunch. Your reviews make me feel all warm and happy. Thanks for that.

Oh, and Marlou rocks crazy.

Sheila

Hope Springs

Chapter 12

Her cell phone buzzed insistently. Slowly, she lifted her head from her pillow and turned to the clock on the bed stand. The red numerals flashed 5:45 a.m. She picked up the phone and squinted at it. The ID said Las Vegas Lab. She let the ringing stop and laid back. It was probably just Grissom, and she wasn't sure she was ready for another disappointing conversation. Yet the call was from the lab. Grissom surely would wait until he was home before he checked up on her. He had always done that in the past. She wondered if there was a problem. It was easy to forget that investigating crime scenes could be dangerous. Images flashed in her head, and the anxiety became palpable. She picked up the phone and hit redial.

"Sara," came Grissom's smooth greeting.

"Is there something wrong?" She mumbled.

"Only the fact that you won't talk to me unless I get sneaky about it."

Sara sat up. "Our conversations tend to be a lot of emotional work. I'm trying to pace myself."

"I miss you and I worry about you."

Sara dropped her head back into her pillow and sighed. "Surprisingly, I think I believe that."

"I don't want to be so much work for you. I want it to be better than this."

She tried to make sense of his words. It was too easy to just give in to him. "Gil, do you really know what you want?"

"Yes, I do. With all certainty I know what I want."

"And if you get what you want, what then? Think about your need for control. What will you do when you have things ordered in your life again? Let's say you have me and you have your baby. Won't the great brain need to go exploring again, find some new thing to distract itself with?"

Grissom chuckled. "With you and a baby in my life, there would be no order. No matter what I want, you will always be you, and you will always be challenging and intriguing to me. And a baby? Forget about control."

"You can give up order and control?"

"Oh, there will be some kicking and screaming. It has protected me for a long time, but, Sara, I need you. I never knew how much until you left Vegas, and with each passing day it gets harder and harder to not have you in my life."

Sara rubbed at her face with her free hand. "It's nice to have a civilized phone conversation, but that's all this is, you know."

Grissom paused for a moment and then moved in another direction. "I've been reading."

"Of course you have. Me too. Just finished a book called, "Delivering Your Baby." It was illustrated. I have now decided to have this baby delivered by mail."

"Worried about it?"

"Imagine passing a bowling ball through your rectum."

Grissom cleared his throat. "Well, okay. Ummm…..Ouch!"

In spite of herself, Sara giggled.

"Don't worry, Sara, we'll arrange for drugs, lots of them. Legal, illegal, whatever you want. I'll put the word out on the street."

She clamped her hand down on the phone because she couldn't quiet her laughter. It had been quite some time since they had laughed together.

Grissom felt the silence and got serious. "Sara, I am going to be there for you. Even if you don't want me there, I'm coming. I am going to be there."

"You talk a pretty good game there, Grissom," she drawled once she composed herself.

"Do you want to know what I've been reading?"

All right. Tell me, Grissom."

"I've been reading about relationships, and I think I learned something."

She snuggled into her pillow. "I'm waiting."

"We are always worried that our…disagreements mean that we are not suited for each other."

Sara held her breath for a few seconds. "It's logical."

"Not necessarily, Sara. We're both strong, independent people and we are used to getting our way. From what I have read, this is normal for people like us. It doesn't mean we can't make it work. We would be unsuited for one another if we didn't have any passion or feeling for one another."

"So…we get together and just fight and fight and fight. Sounds exhausting."

"We have to understand the fighting in a new way."

Sara propped herself up on her elbow. "Huh?"

There was a moment of silence and then the shuffling of pages. "Hold on. It's right here. It says here that we are probably moving to despair too quickly. We have to see our fighting as purposeful rather than a sign of dysfunction or incompatibility…" He waited for her reaction.

"Go on."

"Well, the author here says that if we see the fighting as dynamic rather than dysfunctional, we are less apt to become discouraged about our ability to be together. We fight because this is who we are. We have opinions. We are strong willed. But if we stop giving up on our relationship every time we disagree, we can move beyond our fights."

"You're kidding?"

"Just think about it, Sara. It's interesting to think about this in a different way. I feel inspired by this."

She was sitting up now, no longer able to contemplate sleep. "Are you drinking on shift?"

"You'll think about this?"

She threw her free hand up. "I guess."

"That's all I ask."

"Do I know you?"

He chuckled. "I don't know." Then his tone softened. "Sara, I'm worried. You quit your job. You're sitting in a hotel room in South Dakota chasing windmills for a little girl you never knew."

Sara smiled into the phone. "Sounds a little like a guy I know who is chasing windmills for a little girl without a mother."

"I owe her. What's your excuse?"

Sara felt strangely trapped by the question. "You should feel ashamed about waking a pregnant woman in the middle of the night. We need all the rest we can get."

"Why don't I come and help you out there? I can be on a flight sometime this afternoon."

She closed her eyes. She wanted to make things easy. She wanted to let him come and take over. It would be nice to let someone else figure her life out for a while. But Sara had never traveled an easy road, and she had no idea how to start.

"Sara?"

"I'm okay, Grissom. It's just going to be a couple of days."

"I want to come get you. I want to bring you home to Vegas."

"Thank you. Thank you for wanting to take care of me." She whispered.

"Then I'm coming."

"No." Her voice came sharply. "I…I…want to finish this first."

"I won't get in your way. I still have plenty of leave to take at the lab."

She heard the unease in his voice. "I can still stand on my own two feet. I want to do right by this child. Then I will come see you, and we can talk about all your new ideas on relationships. How does that sound?"

"Sounds promising. Are you sure—"

"I'm good. I promise you." She wanted to hang on. She didn't want to say good-bye yet. She let a silence hang there.

"You'll call me tonight?"

"Yes." She breathed.

"We did pretty good, didn't we? It feels peaceful."

She creased her brow. "What?"

"The conversation. I'm saying that we did pretty good with this conversation. No misunderstandings or hurt feelings. It's really very nice."

She chuckled. "I'll call you tonight, Gri—I mean, Gil."

"I'll be waiting."

Sara clicked the phone and dropped back onto her pillow. She swivel her head to see the clock. 6:15 a.m. Bellecourt wasn't picking her up until 9, and so she contemplated more sleep, but she recognized it as an exercise in futility. What she really needed to do was figure out exactly what he said that had her feeling all giddy in her stomach like the time Tommy Wilson told her he wanted to sit next to her in the lunch room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sara and Bellecourt pulled into the cousin's driveway, and Sara immediately noted the difference between this and Marianne's place. The lawn was lush and green. The white home had a lovely front porch laden with flowered plants. A woman came to the door wearing an apron around her thick midriff. Sara couldn't remember the last time she saw someone wearing an apron who wasn't working the grill at a diner. The woman pushed the hair off her face and squinted at Bellecourt. He walked up the steps. "Hello April."

"What can I do for you, Maurice?" She didn't shift from her place in the doorway.

"April, this is Sara Sidle. She's come all the way from Las Vegas to bring Attica home. She's helping me finish this investigation."

The woman nodded grimly at Sara and then turned back to Bellecourt. "I wished you would have called. I have so much going on this afternoon. Could we make it another time?"

"Sorry April. We need to do this now. I don't think we're needing to take up too much of your time."

April breathed a heavy sigh. She gestured at some wicker furniture on the porch. Bellecourt smiled. "Any other day, and I would say thank you kindly, but Ms. Sidle here is pregnant, and the humidity out here is a little much. How 'bout we just sit down in your living room a few minutes. I promise we won't stay long."

The woman set her mouth. "The house is a mess."

"April, you're infamous for your meticulous housework. I would eat off your floors any day of the week. Now I know you're busy so if we could quit pussyfooting around, then we could get you back to your work."

Reluctantly, the woman stepped aside and ushered them in. As predicted, the house was painfully clean. Thick carpet, mismatching overstuffed couches, knickknacks, and photographs littered the room with an almost anal precision. A clock clicked loudly on the wall. April gestured to the couches. Sara noticed that she looked around with a worried expression on her face; her attention focused on the stairs to the second floor.

Bellecourt settled in, and leaned forward. "I notice an extra car in front of your house. One of your boys home?"

"Ah, no. One of…Les' friends left it here while he went on vacation. We're just watching it for a few days." Sara could tell that the woman was entirely uncomfortable with their presence.

"Can you tell us about the weekend that Attica disappeared?" Sara asked.

The woman let out a breath. "I've done that so many times. That little girl haunts me. I can't believe that foster mom lost her like she did."

"Well, April, here's the thing. We have no evidence that the foster parent lost anybody. In fact, we only have your word that you dropped Attica off."

"Maurice, have I ever had any trouble with the law? I have never been anything but a law abiding citizen. I'm telling you that I dropped her off because I did. You should be over there questioning her instead of harassing me."

"I promise you, April. I am an equal opportunity harasser." He looked over as Sara struggled to get off the soft couch.

"April, do you have a bathroom I could use?"

The woman looked like she was holding her breath for a moment. "There's one off the kitchen. You just go through there."

"I'm sure there's one upstairs too." Bellecourt offered, keeping an eye on April as he did so.

She turned sharply in his direction. "Upstairs is no good. Ah…we're doing repairs. Use the kitchen one, Ms. Sidle."

None of this was lost on Sara and she eyed the stairs as she walked past. The kitchen was small and scrubbed spotless. There was a faint smell of fried food that one could often find in an unventilated, older kitchen. She found the tiny bathroom. It was decorated in all sorts of pink frill. She winced.

A few minutes later, she wandered back into the living room. April was quite agitated with Bellecourt, and informing him of her husband's relationship to the sheriff. Sara suppressed a smile as she watched Bellecourt deflect this without even a blink of an eye. She wandered over to a table filled with framed photos. April turned her head sharply at her. "What are you looking for?"

Sara gave her a look of innocence. "Looks like you have a lovely family here."

"So now you want to talk about my family."

Bellecourt furled his brow and cocked his head. "You know, April, how are your boys? The only one left in the area is Lloyd, right?"

She gave him a hard stare. "That's right, Detective."

"Where did Richie and Jesse ever end up?"

"Richie is working construction down in Florida. And you know all about Jesse. He would have loved to stay in the area, but you all run him off with those false allegations." The woman had her arms folded tightly across her chest, glaring at him unabashedly.

Sara swung her head around and Bellecourt looked at her. "April is referring to her youngest, Jesse. Roughed up his girlfriend quite a bit in high school. A few years ago, she broke up with him, but he wouldn't leave her alone. She came in one day alleging that he kidnapped and raped her."

"All of which was a lie." April interjected. Her mouth was a grim line of anger.

"What happened?" Sara ignored the woman's agitation.

"Not enough evidence to hold him. A week later, the girl left town to go live with relatives in another state. We kept an eye on Jesse after that."

"Harassed him is what you really did. He had a good job out to the quarry, but you ruined everything for him."

Bellecourt smiled at Sara. "I wasn't even on the case, but it appears that April imagines the conspiracy against her boy to be widespread."

"Are you finished?" The woman looked to be on the verge of tears.

Bellecourt started to get up, but Sara's voice stopped him. "Ma'am, is this a picture of Jesse?" She held up a picture of a young man grinning wildly in front of an ocean pier.

"He sent that for my birthday." April said, glaring at the both of them.

Bellecourt screwed up his face. "April, remind me when your birthday is."

She stared at him hard as if trying to devine his thoughts. "None of your damn business."

"April, you do remember that my brother Jerry dated you. I remember he got in trouble with you because he forgot your birthday and we all laughed about how ridiculous it was that a girl named April had a birthday in June. April, did you just have your birthday?"

While Bellecourt kept April distracted, Sara peeled back the frame. The date on the photo hit her hard. She turned to watch their conversation.

April's face colored. "I had my birthday a few days ago. Now I want you out of this house. Now."

He smiled. "I just think it was nice of Jesse to bring such a nice photo home for his mother. You might be right about him. We've probably been misjudging him all this time."

He caught Sara's eyes and saw them widen. He started off the couch. Sara brought the photo over to him. "It seems that Jesse was in California recently."

Agitated, April reached for the photo, knocking Sara backward. Sara landed against a table and held on. April clutched the photo to her chest. "This is an old photo."

Bellecourt lunged for Sara. "You okay?" he asked as he helped her upright again. She nodded and looked past him. "It's time dated April, and that doesn't lie. Jesse was in California three days after Attica disappeared. I recognize the pier. He was just north of San Francisco in this photo. Her body was recovered within ten miles of that spot."

Bellecourt kept his eyes on April while he listened to Sara. "Did he come by for your birthday, April? Is Jesse in town?"

She shook her head slowly, seemingly afraid to use her voice. A crash sounded above their heads, and Bellecourt's eyes shot upwards. Sara fixed her eyes on April who was looking at the stairs in horror. Fear gripped her gut and she backed up.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Grissom approached the park with some trepidation. The little social worker inspired fear in him. She could look right through him. He imagined that dealing with abusive people for so many years toughened her. Whatever it was, she was one tough cookie.

Mary Revoy looked up from the picnic table where she was sitting. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "We talked about this, Grissom."

He cocked his head. "You talked about this, actually. I sat and listened."

She gestured with her head. "She is starting to adjust. She likes her foster family."

Grissom walked past Mary to the edge of the grass. Lucy Bell was up to her elbows in sand. Her hair was neatly tied back in a ribbon. And he noted with no small satisfaction that she was wearing one of the outfits he purchased her. "Any problems?"

Mary shrugged. "The foster mom has arthritis. She doesn't have the energy to be outside running around after this little pumpkin. That's why I'm taking her for a play date once a week."

He turned and frowned at her. "She needs more than that."

She looked up at him. "You want to take a couple of times a week?"

He looked away. "I can't. I promised someone." He shook his head. "I have a baby coming, and it's been made clear to me that I have to get my priorities straight."

She nodded. "Your girlfriend is smart."

"Girlfriend!" He chortled. "Haven't talked her into that yet."

"So you just came to see how she's doing." A wind blew in and ruffled her short, grey curls.

He kept his eyes glued on the small girl so intent on her play, oblivious to all activity around her. "I've established a trust fund. $20,000 to start and another $500 every month until she is twenty one. You'll be the executor. You can make withdrawals from it for basic needs whenever you feel it is necessary. It's a conservative fund, but I think it'll be more than healthy by the time she is of age."

"That's very generous." She talked softly as if not to startle him.

"I understand that it is better that I don't see her; better for her and for me."

"You never really had a chance to say good-bye."

He swiveled his head toward her. "Do you think it matters at this age?"

"I think transitions are important and should always be marked with closure."

"I don't want to confuse her."

She smiled at him. "Frogs are her thing now. She saw some on TV. She looks for them everywhere. She is digging for them right now. The shirt she's wearing, you purchased it, has frogs on it. She wants to wear it every day. Maybe you could tell her a little something about frogs."

"She's too young to understand."

She snorted. "You'd be surprised."

He sighed heavily and just stared at Lucy for a while. Then he walked toward her slowly. Mary watched, almost holding her breath, as he crouched before her. Lucy looked up and Mary could hear the faint sounds of "Bunny!" being carried in the wind.

He eased himself to the ground in front of her pile of sand. Her little arms flew about as she talked to him. Mary guessed that he was probably only understanding bits and pieces, but he nodded seriously at her. She threw sand up in the air and shook her head as it rained down on her. Grissom yelped and duck. Her giggles carried in the wind. Mary could see the smile grow on Grissom's face.

…………………………………………………………………….

For a moment, they all stood frozen. Then Bellecourt quietly unholstered his gun and pointed it at the staircase. He hissed at April. "Is he up there?"

She shook her head back and forth violently.

"Don't lie to me, April. I swear to God, if you are lying to me, I will have you up on obstruction charges and you'll be writing your grandkids from a jail cell."

Her eyes widened, but she stayed silent.

Sara swallowed hard. Bellecourt spoke in a low tone. "Sara, go out to the car. Radio for back up. Take April and keep her outside."

Sara reached over and grabbed the heavy woman and pulled her to the door. April began keening a high pitched cry. Sara ignored her and pulled her out to the porch with every last bit of strength she had that was not being used to carry a human around in her belly. The woman stopped struggling when she got outside. Sara pulled her shoulder around so they were facing each other. "April, if you go back into that house, you will go to jail for a very long time. Do you understand?"

The woman collapsed to her knees and started to sob. Sara dragged her off the porch and into the grass. Her back aching, she pulled upright with a groan and stumbled to the cruiser. Inside, she grabbed the radio and called for back up. Static flowed back at her and then a woman's voice. With horror, Sara learned that the nearest backup was 35 minutes away. She turned and faced the front of the house. There was no sound coming from within. She turned back to the car and popped the trunk, finding a heavy assault rifle. With much effort, she hefted it onto her shoulder and walked past a heaving April huddled on the grass, and climbed the steps to the porch.

Grissom's voice stopped her at the door. She remembered the look on his face when he learned that she had disobeyed an armed suspect. His words of this very morning echoed in her head. He was worried about her and their child; a child who filled her with visions of possibilities: love, laughter, joy. She could just imagine him frowning at her right now, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed her situation. 'Please understand,' she whispered to herself. 'I didn't choose this, Gris, but now I got no choice but to see it through.' Tears stung her eyes and she swallowed a sob.

She sagged against the door, the rifle sliding down past her knees. She was breathing heavy, wishing she could hear something over her panting. April was still wailing in the front yard, and for a moment, she considered shooting her. Sounds erupted from inside the house. She held her breath, her ear pressed to the door. There were shouts and then the explosion of gunfire. Sara jumped and edged away from the door. Four pops and then silence. With what little energy she had left, she raised the rifle and pointed it at the front door. The rifle shook wildly in her grip.

She could hear someone calling her from the car radio, imploring her to respond. April lay on the lawn, her sobs growing quiet and rhythmic. Sweat ran freely from her face and down her arms. Her wet palms started to slide and she tightened her grip on the rifle.

The sound of running came from the house and she stood ready, trembling but waiting. Then a man started calling for his mama, and Sara knew that this had gone all wrong. A wiry, young man burst through the door, blood pouring from his shoulder. He saw his mother sprawled on the ground. Then he turned and found Sara pointing a large rifle at him. He slowly backed away from her. "Don't move," she croaked, dehydration already beginning to take a toll. Slowly he raised his hands. He was young looking, a sort of little boy expression still marking his features. His hair was straggly and unkempt and his eyes were a startling light blue.

"Where's Detective Bellecourt?"

He didn't say anything. He just stood there staring at her with soulless eyes that made her shiver.

"Where is he?" She barked.

He gestured with his head at the door, and she realized that he wasn't going to give her anything useful about Bellecourt's condition. She raised the rifle again, doing her best to keep it steady. Then she saw something she hadn't noticed before. The safety on the gun was still on. She struggled to keep her face passive. She knew that with a rifle this heavy, she was going to have to put it down in order to release it and she had no doubt that Jesse planned on taking advantage of such an opportunity.

"On your knees!" She commanded. "Hands over your head."

He hesitated and she could see in him the coldness of a predator. He started to lower himself, but just before he dropped, he launched himself at her. She tried to jump back, but he was on her, pushing her against the railing. He wrenched the rifle away from her, and gave her a crooked smile. Then he shoved her violently and she spilled over the railing onto the yard below. She fell with a dull thud, and lay there motionless. He looked down at her, a grin spreading across his face and raised the rifle, pointing it down at her. Sara closed her eyes. A shot rang out and a bullet tore up the lawn next to her head. Bits of dirt and grass landed on her face. April's screaming intensified and Sara curled up around her womb, trying to protect the one thing she could..

………………………………………………………………………………………

Grissom had to be on shift in an hour, and he hadn't yet heard from her. She was still so unsure of everything and so he hated to push too hard, but there would be no rest for him until he had talked with her again. He had played so many conversations over in his head, and felt, for the first time, ready to tell her everything. He was ready to share his fears and hopes, dreams, and insecurities. Whatever the outcome, he felt certain that this was what she deserved from him after these many years.

He tried her cell phone again, looking for reasons to justify his initiating the phone call. There was still no answer. This was the third time this evening he hadn't even gotten her voice mail. A restless anxiety sloshed about in his gut that he couldn't seem to squelch. Impulsively, he called Information, and was soon waiting for the South Dakota state police, Sioux Falls office to answer. He asked for Sara and got nothing but confusion from the first officer. He persisted until another officer got on the line, and asked him his relationship to Sara. The feeling in his gut intensified. He thought for a moment, and then identified himself as her fiancée. It was his best chance at getting information, and he would deal with the fallout later. On the other end, the officer sighed and began to recount the events of the last few hours. Grissom became instantly numb as words pounded their way into his head. There was a suspect and an incident, and people had been rushed to the hospital, Sara included. He heard words about preterm labor and gunshot wounds and intensive care. It wasn't until hours after the call that he realized he had no idea whose injuries were whose. The only thing he could recall with any clarity was the officer telling him that it would be best for Sara to have family there as soon as possible. He became acutely aware of the man's gentle tone as if preparing him. Grissom was more than familiar with this tone of voice. He'd heard Brass employ it many times. Grissom pressed for details but the officer insisted that no other information was yet available. The phone clicked and Grissom stood there in the middle of his living room, a numbing paralysis enveloping him. He shook his head violently, trying to loose himself of this malaise, but everything still felt dreamlike. He opened a suitcase, but couldn't organize his mind around filling it. Instead, he stuffed three pairs of underwear and a toothbrush into his briefcase and headed for his truck.

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TBC


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hi! Hope this works for you. I really struggled with it despite knowing the direction it would take. Thanks for everything. You guys rock. I love your reviews.

Sheila

Props to my friend, Marlou, who always finds time to make it better.

A special thanks to Maggs who walked me through some of the pre labor stuff. I hope I did it right.

**Hope Springs**

**Chapter 13**

Grissom sat in the molded plastic chair of an airport lounge. They had promised him stand-by on a flight scheduled to leave in four hours which had a stop in Chicago. He couldn't realistically expect to be in Sioux Falls until 10 a.m. tomorrow morning. He clasped and unclasped his hands repeatedly, doing his best to stay rooted in the chair. He twisted his wrist and found it to be only two minutes later than the last time he checked.

Three calls to McKinnon hospital had been fruitless. He alternately heard that she wasn't there, that she was in surgery, that they weren't allowed to speak to him because he wasn't family, and that she was being examined. He had to resist the urge to yell his displeasure across four states. After much urging, he convinced a nurse to have her supervisor call him. He was still waiting for her call.

"I found you!" The heaving body of Nick Stokes was standing in front of him, hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

"What are you doing here?" Grissom frowned at him.

"I'm here to help." Nicky peered at him out of the corner of his eye while he panted.

"Well, unless you chartered a private jet for me, I don't know what you could possibly do." Grissom voice was thick with frustration.

Nicky stood up and snorted. "Well, you're sitting here waiting for a flight that isn't going to get you to Sioux Falls for another 11 hours, so I figure you could use a little help."

"The ticket agent assures me that this is my best option. Not a lot of nonstop traffic running through Sioux Falls as you can imagine." Grissom winced at the sarcastic tone of his voice. As usual, at times of emotional difficulty, his defenses were working overtime."

Nick sighed and sat down next to him. "All right, Grissom, we'll deal with that in a moment. First things first; how's Sara? Do you have any idea as to the extent of her injuries?"

"No. They won't give me any information."

"Tell me the hospital she's at." Nick pulled out his phone.

Anger swelled up in Grissom. "What makes you think they're going to talk to you."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, okay? You're beside yourself here and you could use a little help."

"McKinnon hospital." He growled reluctantly.

Nicky got up and started dialing numbers, glancing at his watch as he did so. He groaned. "Grab your things. I'll have you on a flight in 30 minutes. We have to hurry. It's on the other side of the terminal."

"What!" Grissom slung his bag over his shoulder.

"No time to explain. If you want to shave four hours off your trip, then follow me." Nicky trotted off toward the far end of the terminal. Grissom jogged after him reluctantly. Eventually they slowed at a gate filled with grey haired couples. "Okay, let me take care of this." Nicky warned.

"Why?"

"Because the flight is full."

Hearing this last impossible bit of news, Grissom groaned.

Nicky stood up on a plastic chair and looked around the room, then he raised a hand. "Folks, may I have your attention please?"

Grey heads turned his direction.

"Folks, we have a situation. My friend here, Gil, is in a tough spot. His wife, Sara, has been in an accident and she's in a hospital in Sioux Falls. He's having a hard time getting there. She's pregnant and he needs to get there as soon as possible." Grissom's eyes grew large as Nick spun this tale out of facts and wishful thinking.

Murmurs rose up from the crowd as people shook their heads and looked at him in sympathy.

"Now, your flight is full, and I am sure that you all have busy lives to return to, but if there is anybody that can help him, we'd be real appreciative. In fact, if there is anyone here who can give up their ticket, Gil here will pay for it plus put you up in The Palms for two more nights, and $300 in spending money." Nick leaned over and reported to Grissom in sotto voice. "Warrick's got your back. He got you two night's comp there. The $300 you're going to have to swallow."

Grissom waved it away. "Anything, Nicky. Just get me on this plane."

A man stood up. "Is this for real, 'cause my wife here never had a chance to see Wayne Newton, and she's been real worked up about that?"

Nicky jumped down off the chair. "Absolutely sir. In fact, I believe I can get you some nice front row tickets to that show."

"Nick! I don't know anything about getting tickets." Grissom hissed at him. Nicky smiled and whispered back. "Her name is Charisma, she's the concierge at the Sands, and she owes me. I got it all taken care of."

Within minutes, tickets were exchanged and people began boarding the plane. Grissom turned to Nick. "I just realized that the airline isn't going to let me use someone else's ticket."

Nicky snorted. "Small charter company flying Vegas to Midwest destinations? I think this is not high on the list of Homeland Security concerns. You'll be okay."

"How do you know all this?"

"Well, Griss, if you paid attention to what was happening around you, you would know that my sister was a travel agent. I called her and woke her out of a dead sleep when Catherine told me you were stuck at the airport. She got on the computer and walked me through this. You are going to Omaha with these people, and then you will rent a car and head north to Sioux Falls. Barring any unforeseen events, you will be at the hospital by 6 a.m."

"Nick, I owe you an apology and my gratitude. I'm no good at accepting help."

He nodded. "You're having a hard day."

"I'm like this almost all the time." Grissom sighed.

"Good point, Grissom, but you'll have enough time to think about that later."

"I am grateful."

"Hey, my sister is the hero here. Woman's got three little kids. An hour of sleep is worth an ounce of gold to her."

Grissom considered reaching over and giving Nick's shoulder a squeeze, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "Please pass on my heartfelt appreciation for her help."

Nick's phone rang. He pulled it to his ear and listened. "Yes, ma'am, I am her brother. My name is Nick. I am looking for an update…Yes, yes, yes, I know all that, but you must know how crazy we're feeling, halfway across the country, no way to get there quickly, transportation to your part of the world being what it is. I realize that nothing is definitive, but we're on pins and needles down here, and time has stood still…Yes, ma'am, just a few. Is she in critical condition? Where was she shot? Can we speak to her?…Yes…Uh-huh…You're sure. Our information was quite different…Excellent. The prognosis?...Yes, ma'am…Thank you for your time…Yes, the baby's father will be there as soon as he can. We are at the airport right now…Thanks again, ma'am."

Grissom looked on with some fascination as Nicky's accent thickened a bit more with every sentence, and he recognized how this sincere sounding country plain speak was opening doors for Nick that his own city breeding wasn't touching. Nicky got off the phone and Grissom tensed. Nick took a deep breath. "Okay. Good news and bad news. First off, she wasn't shot."

"The sergeant at the sheriff's office said that she was." Grissom narrowed his eyes.

Nick shrugged. "Well, you know how that goes. People get stressed and they hear all sorts of things. The detective with her was shot though. Sara suffered a fall."

"She's going to be okay?" The tension in his body began to ease.

"Well Griss, that's not all. She definitely is in pre-term labor, and at 27 weeks that's generally not a good thing. They are doing what they can to stop the labor."

"Can I talk to her?"

"Ah…they're trying to x-ray her hip right now. She fell from a porch and they need to know if her hip is fractured in case she has to deliver."

"I need to talk to her." Grissom stood his ground rather hopelessly.

Nick placed an arm across his shoulder and gently steered him toward the door. "Right now, you need to get on this plane before they close the door. Then you get there as soon as you can. We'll try and reach her and tell her that you're coming. We'll tell her you're coming."

Grissom closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he nodded at Nicky and headed for the plane. The Texan waited until the plane taxied down the runway, and then he went looking for the couple who were going to celebrate another couple of days in Sin City on Gil Grissom.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sara lay as quietly as possible. Her right arm was sore and throbbing from her fall, but she didn't dare move it. She didn't want to move anything. An IV dripped slowly into her arm and she didn't want anything to impede the medicine getting to her body. The clock on the far wall ticked the seconds away, and she knew she had only five more hours to get this under control.

Another contraction hit and she gritted her teeth, grabbing the sheets with her fingers. She tried to breathe as she was taught but she found herself powerlessness to do much except get through the enormous discomfort.

A short red haired nurse peeked in the door. She saw Sara straining and slipped in. "How are you doing, Sara?"

Sara could do nothing but grimace at her. The woman checked her IV and her pulse, and then sat down next to her, still holding her wrist. "Good job, Sara. Just ride it through."

Sara puffed her way through and began to relax again. The nurse smiled at her. "You're doing really well, Sara."

"I can't have this baby yet." Sara whispered.

The nurse took a washcloth and gently patted the cool fabric onto Sara's sweat soaked face. "I know, honey. You're doing the best you can."

Sara shook her head in frustration. "He's too small."

The nurse had a profusion of freckles on her short, wide nose. "Sara, we're not a big hospital, but we're the best place you can be right now. We've seen our share of little babies, and we have very good facilities."

"Isn't there anything we can do? Please. I'll do anything."

"Sorry, honey, nothing to do but wait."

Sara set her mouth in a grim line and tried to hold back the tears.

"Hey, we're slow tonight so I think I get to just stay here with you right now. We can talk or not talk. Whatever you need. My name is June."

Sara nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How is Detective Bellecourt?"

June bit her lower lip. "He's still in surgery, but he's a strong man."

"He saved my life."

June smiled. "Yeah, and I hear you returned the favor."

Sara turned away. She didn't see it that way. She remembered being curled in the grass, waiting to taste her last breath when another shot rang out. She ached everywhere but didn't feel any blood. A tremendous thud sounded and she opened her eyes to find Jesse lying on the ground beside her with blood seeping from his neck. He was making choking sounds, but when she looked at his eyes she could tell he wasn't seeing anything. She propped herself up on one elbow and saw Mo Bellecourt holding tightly onto the railing. She could see the blood soaking the front of his shirt, his pistol hung limply in his hand. He was swaying back and forth, and then he collapsed on the porch.

More screaming erupted and Sara looked over to see April kneeling beside her struggling son. She aimed her small blue eyes at Sara and screamed, "Do something!"

Sara pulled herself onto her knees and began crawling. Her limbs and back groaned through every exertion. She crawled past April and her fallen son despite the woman's demanding shrieks, and dragged herself up the porch steps. With every ounce of strength she had left in her upper body, she pushed Bellecourt onto his back. There was a dark, wet hole in the upper right quadrant of his chest. She laid her cheek on his mouth, and could feel faint, shallow breaths on her skin. Fumbling with the buttons, she pulled his shirt off his chest. The wound was oozing more blood. She looked around her and then remembered the towels on the kitchen table. "April!" she yelled. "Go inside and grab the towels off the table."

April looked up. "What about my son?"

Sara closed her eyes. "Get me the towels and I will help your son. Please!"

The middle aged woman scrambled to her feet and ran past her into the house. She returned seconds later with an armload of kitchen towels in an array of different designs. Sara reached up and grabbed several. She folded them and then placed them on his wound, one after another. Then she placed her hands on top and pressed down hard.

"What about Jesse?" April wailed.

Sara swung her head sharply in the hysterical woman's direction. "Take those towels and do exactly what I am doing on Jesse's wound."

"You promised—"

"Just do it!" Sara screamed at her. The woman's wet eyes focused and she scrambled off the porch. From where Sara sat, she could see that Jesse had ceased struggling. She suspected he was dead, but was not about to mention any of this to his overwhelmed mother.

Sara felt the first contraction as a cramp that knifed through her lower abdomen. She groaned audibly, bending over the detective's chest. A second one hit her a few minutes later, and the only relief she found was the sound of emergency sirens wailing in the distance.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" The nurse's soft voice broke her reverie.

"Is his family with him? Maurice? He told me he had a wife and kids."

June nodded. "Yes, Sara, they're here, just waiting to hear some good news."

Sara struggled to put her thoughts together. "June…could you tell them that I wouldn't be here right now if not for him. Tell them…I owe him everything and…that my thoughts are with them now."

June patted her face again with the cloth. "I will, Sara. They'll be happy you're okay."

Another contraction seized Sara and she grimaced tightly against the pain. June leaned over and scooped one arm under her neck and the other resting on her arm. Gently, she talked her through the pain. Even as the physical pain subsided, the emotional pain grew.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Grissom jogged through the halls of the hospital. He had no idea what he had imagined, but was feeling very relieved to find that, despite its size, it looked every bit as professional as Desert Palms. A nurse told him she was in room 313, and he took off without even waiting for directions. It was 6:15 a.m. and he had driven four hours from Omaha. His phone didn't roam in the wide open spaces of the Nebraska heartland, and he was unable to complete any calls to Sioux Falls or anywhere. It was all he could do to not slam the phone through the dashboard. He pushed through a door and found a stairwell and ran the stairs two at a time until he found the third floor. He burst through and nearly plowed over a nurse. He stopped to steady the startled woman and then asked for Sara. The woman pointed at a room down the hall.

He pushed through the door and found her lying in bed, sweat soaked, her hair spread across the pillow in wet, wild tendrils. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping. He approached with care, noting the IV in her arm and the fetal monitor attached to her abdomen. He sat down in the chair beside her bed. At first, he sat like a statue, afraid of the noise of his breathing. She looked so exhausted, he was loathe to stir her. Finally his own need took over, and he reached over to cover her hand.

Eyes still closed, her voice murmured. "Please God, tell me that touch is what I think it is."

He reached over and gently kissed her cheek. Her mouth bent into a frown as she choked back sobs. Grissom laid his cheek against hers and wrapped his arms around her. Her whole body seemed to sob, and he let her bury her wet face in his neck. "Shhhhhh. Sara, it's going to be alright. We'll get through this, I promise."

Her cries went on for quite some time, and Grissom couldn't have been happier to be there for every last tear. He actually felt like he was being useful to her. He wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. He wanted to ask her questions about the baby, but he didn't dare. Right now, he would have to content himself with the fact that she was strong enough to hug him back.

Suddenly Sara breathed in sharply and leaned forward. Grissom changed his grip around her shoulders and worked to support her as she struggled through a contraction.

"What's going on, Sara?" He couldn't help but betray a hint of panic in his voice.

Her face was red and etched in pain, and she held her abdomen tightly. The door behind him opened and a short, chubby nurse with red curls rushed in. She regarded him for a moment, and then moved to the other side of the bed and took Sara's hand. "Breathe through it, Sara. You're almost there."

Sara finally collapsed back into Grissom's arms and he lowered her back onto the pillow.

The nurse looked at her watch. "Still the same interval, Sara. If these contradictions don't stop in the next hour, we're going to have to deliver."

"No." Sara groaned. "He isn't old enough. Give me more medication. Anything, June, please."

"Honey, we talked about this. Your womb is making a decision, and we're only along for the ride." The nurse looked at Grissom and extended her arm across the bed. "I'm June. And I am assuming that you are the infamous Grissom."

Grissom numbly took her hand and shook it. "What's happening here?"

June looked down at Sara who was trying to blink back tears. "Sara has gone into premature labor. We've been trying to stop the labor. If she advances any further, we're going to have to deliver this baby."

"The fetus is viable now?" He wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

June nodded. "Yes, probably. We may not have any choice."

"We have another hour?"

"The doc said Sara can struggle with this for another hour, but after that, if she is still in labor, we're going to have to deliver."

"You have a neo-natal unit?"

She smiled. "Of course we do."

He found that he couldn't handle much more information so he merely nodded. June reached behind her and handed Sara a cup. "Ice chips, honey. It'll help you hydrate a little."

Sara took the cup and rested it on her chest. He could see the exhaustion deep in her eyes as she stared past him at the ceiling. He gently took the ice chips from her. "What can I do to help her?"

"Well, you're off to a good start. Make sure she gets hydrated a little with the ice. You might want to massage her back or her belly. She's had quite a bit of bruising from her fall so be careful to avoid her right hip. The more relaxed Sara becomes, the better chance she has at stopping this labor. I'm going to let you keep her company now. I'll be down the hall at the nurse's station. Just press the button on the side of her bed if you need anything. Okay?"

Grissom mumbled this thanks as June slipped out the door. Sara shifted her eyes to his. "I'm sorry, Gris. I was careful. I promise I was. It was a routine interview. We didn't suspect—"

"Shhhh!" He stroked her hair. "It's okay. Don't say another thing. June gave us some pretty specific instructions and I suggest we follow them to the letter.

"But-"

"No." He put a finger to her mouth. "I'm serious. We're not going to talk about anything stressful. Understood?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"Good girl. I'm going to give you an ice chip now and you take your time with it. I'll do all the entertaining."

Her eyes never left his face.

"So my mother wants to meet you. Is absolutely insistent about it. She is convinced that she will charm you so much that you will forget about my numerous shortcomings. What do you think? Has she got a chance?"

Sara started to mumble through the ice, but Grissom just chuckled and put his hand gently over her mouth. "I think, Miss Sidle, that I have you at my mercy right now. No responses. In fact, feel free to nod in agreement with everything I say."

Sara wrinkled her lovely nose at him. He reached over and began to stroke the side of her face. "There is nothing that will ever compare to these moments when we truly see each other. No worries or defenses or insecurities. You open up worlds to me that I never thought possible." He smiled. "With you I have to climb mountains and swim oceans, and I love every moment of it. I can feel joy, Sara, intoxicating, exhilarating joy. You have no idea how foreign that emotion was to me."

He pushed another chip between her lips. "Every minute with you, I am scared and exhausted and confused, but none of it matters because you touch my soul. You make me want to be a better man, someone deserving of your love."

Her eyes were wide and dark and intent on his words.

"I can't seem to get through my day without you. It hurts when I wake up and remember that you are not with me. God knows I don't deserve you. I have been difficult, aloof, and self-involved, but don't ever question my love. It lives in me as if a part of my flesh and blood and bones."

He gave her the last ice chip. "Where are you feeling sore, honey?"

"My back," she murmured softly.

He stood and put a hand under her neck and under the small of her back. Slowly he turned her, careful with her hip, until she was lying on her side. He untied her gown and opened her back to him. Then he slid onto the bed beside her. Draping one arm over her belly, he used the other to knead gently for tight spots. She groaned, and he wondered if she was having another contraction, but she stayed relaxed, urging him to move lower.

Taking his time, he massaged between her shoulder blades and down her spine. She relaxed more when he found a knot in her lower back. While he massaged her, he whispered possible names for the baby. She laughed because he refused to pick anything but girl names: Desdemona, Juliet, Ophelia. She made it clear that he wasn't going to be naming the child after some Shakespeare character. He tried common names like Anne, Heather, Ashley, and she brushed those off too. He began with Latin names related to insect groups, and she erupted in a shout. "Gilbert Grissom, you are not going to name this child. You have no idea what you are doing."

"Only my mom calls me Gilbert." He whispered into her neck.

And...?" She warned.

"Nothing. Just saying you're in good company."

"I already have a name for this baby."

"Tell me." He leaned over and began to massage her belly. She closed her eyes, hypnotized by his rhythmic movements.

"Nope. I want to wait until he is born. I want to see if the name fits him."

"No previews?"

"I am not ready and he is not ready." She said firmly. Grissom let silence take both of them for a few minutes. He rested his chest against her back as he massaged her, trying to support her as best he could.

"His name is going to be Oliver James Grissom. We can honor your mom's name. And the James is for Brass. He's always been there for both of us. Hell, they have all been there for us, but James is the name I like for our baby."

He smiled into her shoulder and sighed deeply. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the clock, aware of every minute that ticked by without a contraction.

………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: This is sort of a transition chapter, and I really hope it keeps you intrigued. There is still a little excitement to come. Thanks for all your lovely words. I treasure each and every review. I want to give a quick shout out to Taletha who has faithfully followed me through several stories, and taken time to comment on every chapter. You guys rock!

Sheila

As always, a shout out to the amazing Marlou; a great beta and a wonderful person.

**Hope Springs **

**Chapter 14**

She found most of the stars in the sky, but she doubted that it would ever be as clear as it was that night before her life imploded. The cool air of the evening soothed her, and she relaxed more deeply into the cushioned lounge she was laying on. She never knew the view could be so lovely here. She had never before taken the time to appreciate it. But it made sense. Grissom probably chose this condo very carefully in sort of a calculated manner as he undoubtedly did with just about everything.

The sounds of the desert at night washed over her and she noticed, for the first time, the harmony created between the insects and birds and animals. She shifted a little in the lounge to accommodate the mound around her middle. It was true what people said. Once day you might look a little pregnant and then the next day you woke up and you were massive. For the first time in her life, Sara Sidle felt massive.

She heard the sliding glass door open behind her, but she didn't turn. She knew that they would have to fuss this one last time about him going to work before he would leave.

"Do you need a blanket?"

Sara smiled at him as he dragged a chair over next to her. "No, the air is perfect."

"It will get cooler."

She nodded. "I've lived here before."

"I'll feel better if—"

She waved a hand. "Then by all means, find me a blanket."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm bugging you."

"Very much so, Grissom. Very much so."

"So the suggestion that I stay with you one more night…." He leaned over, his hands neatly folded.

She shook her head. "Please. You need to get back to work and I need the space."

"We only flew in yesterday. Not much time for you to settle in. Are you comfortable here?"

Sara sighed. "I am as comfortable as I can be. You have done so much for me…you've been perfect."

"A week in the hospital can be stressful, and the plane ride. Plus you are on bed rest for another week. I know how independent you are. I'm trying the best I can to help without crowding you."

She snorted. "And from me you get nothing but surliness."

He took a deep breath. "I'm trying to understand."

"You deserve better."

Unclasping his hands, he reached over and scooped hers up. "You've been through a lot. I understand that."

She resisted the urge to pull her hand away. "Do you? You are giving me everything I ever wanted from you, our baby is safe, and you have promised to take care of all of my needs. And Attica's killer has been stopped. What could possibly be wrong now?"

"It must be hard to just sit there and let someone else take care of you; especially someone with whom you have had some trust issues."

She squeezed his hand. "Ah, Dr. Grissom, you missed your calling. You could have had the psychological world at your feet."

He raised his brows. "I would have had to talk to people all day. The thought of it sends a chill up my spine."

She grinned. "Honestly, I think you are only partly right. I have never let anyone take care of me before, and it is something of a struggle. But you need to know that I am glad to be here. I do trust you. I believe you want this as much as I do."

"This is still about the little girl, isn't it?"

Her throat grew thick and her eyes stung. "Why are people so callous? How can a child be discarded like this? I don't understand. And I don't understand why I'm being like this. The idea of neglected and abused children is certainly not new to me. What's so different about this one? Why did I never mourn the others this much?"

He shrugged. "You're pregnant. Hormones? Or maybe something more maternal? It didn't take you very long to become fierce about being a mother. Being pregnant must help you understand how tremendous the commitment is that goes into growing a child."

Her brow wrinkled.

His eyes caught hers. "Remember when you told me about your mom and dad. You said that you thought everyone lived like that. Now you understand, first hand, how ridiculous that notion is. You can feel it in you; how foreign it would be for you to treat your child abusively. You could never do that to a child."

"That remains to be—"

Grissom put his fingers to her lips. "It's not possible, Sara. I know this."

"Who will bury little Attica now that it's over? Her mother won't. Will the county? Will she be some unmarked grave on that vast, lonely prairie?"

"Hey!" He cupped her chin. "You promised that you wouldn't stress. This pregnancy can't afford it. I will call. I will check on it."

"And you'll check on Detective Bellecourt for me? I never got to see him in the hospital."

"Yup, I got it. I will take care of all of it. You just rest. I'll do everything."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't find it comforting that you will do everything."

He leaned in to kiss her, and all of that Grissom-longing rose up in her, and she found herself drinking in as much as she could: his clean, musky smell, the feel of his grey whiskers on her face, the warm, salty taste of his mouth. She wanted to pull him into the lounge chair with her, and let him pepper her with kisses and whispered promises, but she knew neither of them was ready for that. 'Baby steps' she told herself. Reluctantly she broke the kiss with him. He smiled down at her, and she wondered if she would ever be strong enough to see Grissom as nothing more than an ordinary man. She hoped for this; suspected it would be the only way this relationship would survive.

"I can stay," he whispered.

She shook her head sharply. "Go Grissom. We need the space. Really. Go solve cases. At least one of us will be doing something useful."

His thick hand slid back and forth over her taut belly. "Incubating a person is a very useful thing to do. I'm pretty sure nothing I do tonight will compete with that, Ms. Sidle."

He stood up and she playfully wagged a finger at him. "Be careful, Gris, and no double shifts. Understood?"

He nodded. "You're going to let me get you a blanket before I go though, right?"

She wrinkled her nose and threw a magazine at him. He ducked as Newsweek skimmed across his back and hit the sliding glass door. He grinned back at her and disappeared into the house.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

She woke when she heard the sliding door open. It startled her and she sat up, groaning as her back strained under the extra weight. She twisted her head to find the cotton candy visage of Catherine Willows beaming at her.

"Oh God," Sara moaned. "What time is it?"

"1 a.m." Catherine said as she settled into the chair that Grissom had pulled up next to Sara.

"Catherine, who comes to visit a person at 1 a.m. in the morning?"

"The answer is sitting right in front of you, girlfriend." Catherine smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary. She was exactly as Sara remembered her: beautiful, brassy, and ballsy.

A spasm hit her and she groaned. "You have no idea how my back is hurting me."

"Turn over on your side," Catherine ordered.

"Geez, Catherine, I don't know if—"

"Just do it, Sara. I also grew a baby, you know." Catherine scooted the chair up against the lounge chair.

Sara turned reluctantly and looked over her shoulder. "Catherine, I don't know about this."

Catherine didn't answer. Rather, she began working on the muscles in her back. Sara groaned and moaned but found her touch to be even more therapeutic than anything Grissom had done. She found herself more than a little unsettled with this.

"God, move a little lower, to the left. Dammit, Catherine, who knew?"

Catherine chuckled. "Girl, you have to go through this before you really know."

"You're going to kill me, but sometimes it's hard to think of you as a mother." Sara was going for broke and didn't care.

Her chuckle deepened. "I kinda worked on that, you know. Never wanted to lose my edge."

Sara smiled. "You never have. You're still the hottest thing the lab rats ever saw."

"I myself would have thrown the net a little wider than that. I was really something in my day." Catherine rubbed hard at a spot on her lower back.

"Catherine, I don't doubt it for a moment. You do more on my lower back and I am yours forever." Sara leaned back into her.

"That would be a pretty interesting proposition, but my guess is that I have some pretty stiff competition." Sara thought that Catherine winked at her, but she couldn't tell for sure.

Catherine kneaded the stiff muscles for another ten minutes, and then let Sara sink back into the cushions of the lounge. Sara smiled up at her. "Okay, maybe visitors at 1 a.m. aren't so bad after all."

Catherine tossed her strawberry blonde hair off her face. "Swing shift gets off at midnight, and I have to turn into Mommy at 7:30 a.m. so this is when I've got time."

"Everything good at the lab? How are the guys? I miss them."

"This from the girl who packed up and left without so much as a good-bye for most of her friends." Catherine leaned back and regarded her.

Sara felt her face flush. "I was in a bad place emotionally. Not much good to anyone."

"Well, it's good to have you back. We do have you back, don't we?"

Sara shrugged and looked away. "I don't have a lot of choices right now. I would have preferred to come back on my own terms."

Catherine lowered her voice and caught Sara's eyes. "You should have heard him on the phone when he thought you were shot and he had to get to South Dakota. He's lost without you, Sara. I don't think that is ever going to change. After all these years, he is finally at your mercy. How does it feel?"

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose as if massaging away a headache. "Boy, you really go in for the kill, don't you?"

Catherine smiled and shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes never left Sara's.

Sara threw her hands up. "All right, Catherine. It feels wonderful and frightening all at the same time. My God, we danced around each other for eight years. Was there a reason for that? Something I'm not considering? Will I wake up in eight months and realize that Grissom was right to hold me at arm's length? Or more likely, will he wake up in eight months and realize that he was right all along?"

"You are something, aren't you? Going to tie yourself up in knots. This worrying that the two of you do; this is the stuff that screws you up time after time. Leave it alone, Sara. Let it be what it is. 'Cause the two of you have something very powerful happening between you, always have, and it needs to be nurtured, not questioned and analyzed. Do you understand?"

Sara blinked at her for a moment before answering. "That wasn't bad. Really. I mean it."

Catherine let a smile grow out of one side of her mouth. "Is there anything I don't do well?"

"I thought you rented a penthouse suite for your ego over at the Stardust. I didn't realize that you were still capable of carrying it around."

Catherine snorted. "It's better than questioning every action, thought or motive like the two of you do."

Sara closed her eyes for a moment and chewed her lower lip. "I'm really embarrassed to say this." She sighed. "I don't have much in the way of female friends to talk to. It's never really mattered to me before. But I find…I don't have anyone who understands what this is like. Grissom is not good for this. He treats me like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces every time I move."

Catherine threw back her head and laughed. "Okay, girlfriend, what do you want to know?"

"I'm growing a condominium here. It's out of control. I am Jabba the Hut with boobs. I fully believe that if I get any bigger, I am going to explode like an overblown balloon at a birthday party."

"I remember this well. I never thought I would ever see my feet again."

"You were big?"

"Please! I was a human watermelon. My ankles were so swollen, it looked like I was walking on tree trunks."

"You survived it okay." Sara observed.

"I was dancing again four months after Lindsay was born."

Sara's head fell back into the cushions. "I tried to talk to Grissom about this, and he got this 'deer caught in headlights' look on his face which made me mad, and that made him nervous and he wanted to go to the store for ice cream so I accused him of abandoning me, and he looked at me like I was a smudged fingerprint, I know that look, Catherine, and so I--"

Catherine put a hand up. "Stop! That's enough. Those are your hormones talking. That, and the fact that the two of you have the communication skills of newborn seals is going to make the next ten weeks a very interesting time."

…………………………………………………………………………….

There was a long pause before Grissom got an answer. "Well, I really don't know much about this, Gil. Not sure there is much precedent for this."

"But you'll look into it, Matthew." Grissom found that his patience had a shelf life comparable to Sara's.

"Of course, I will. Anything for my favorite scientist."

"And you and Mark are coming down this weekend?" Grissom was rubbing a spot on his cheek where he cut himself shaving. He was surprised that his razor got dull so quickly until Sara commented later on how it gave her legs a wonderfully close shave.

"Are you sure she's up to it?"

Grissom groaned. "Come! She is bored and ornery, and needs a distraction. She just saw the doctor and he gave her another week of bed rest because I told him that her pulse has been running fast. I am very unpopular in my home right now."

"Poor Gil! Don't worry. We'll be there. Besides, Catherine and I really need to get together and plan Sara's shower."

Grissom screwed up his face. "You know Catherine?"

"She was your Lamaze surrogate, remember? She's got a face like an angel, the body of a goddess, and the smile of a demon."

"Yes, yes, of course." Grissom was irritated with the growing cast of characters in his life.

"Take a breath, Gil. Learn to love the chaos. It's your only chance."

Grissom sank back into his chair when he was finished. The digital on his desk told him that shift would be ending in an hour. He sighed. Counting down the hours until he could leave was not his style, but he was having some trouble concentrating. Eager to get home, he suspected he would find her lying on the couch, bloated and uncomfortable. She would scowl at him, and demand to know every detail of his shift. Then she would frown at him when he tried to feed her a healthy breakfast, but he would smile back at her because her presence in his life was worth the struggle.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

She rolled onto her side, and found the bed empty. The sun glared around the edges of the heavy shades. She had never before slept as much as she had these last few weeks, and it left her feeling drugged and lethargic. She slowly rolled off the bed, groaning as her back muscles strained under the extra weight. In the mirror, she saw herself at 30 weeks. Her face was blurry and vague, and her hair tousled and curly. Her body had stretched impossibly and her belly had taken on mythical dimensions.

Clothes had become a definite issue. Catherine had gone out and found her some thin, cotton sundresses in soft pastels. It was the last thing that Sara would have ever picked out for herself, but she was amazed at how comfortable it was to throw one over her head and be ready for the day. She felt like a little girl going out to play on the beach. She padded her way into the kitchen and found it empty. She checked the bathroom, living room, and dining room. There was so sign of Grissom. A twinge of anxiety erupted in her gut, and she had to assure herself that he was out running errands or taking a walk or something else that didn't involve trying to escape from her. It was still so difficult. She trusted him in many ways, but she didn't yet believe that this could work.

She leaned against the counter to relax herself. The shades were drawn on the sliding glass door, but out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in the cracks. She let out a great sigh of relief. She found him on the deck crouched over some plants, carefully repotting flowers. She slid out into the hot sun and squinted at him.

He looked up in surprise. "You're awake already."

"If I slept anymore I would be in a coma," she drawled as she eased herself into her favorite lounge chair. "What are you doing, Grissom?"

"I have a soft spot for African Violets. I'm repotting a couple that are getting too big for their pots."

"I've never seen you in shorts before." She had somehow reached a point in this pregnancy where she put words to almost every thought she was having.

He raised his eyebrows and sat back on his haunches. "And this is the first time I have ever seen you in a dress. Who knew we could be such complex individuals?"

"Funny man," she murmured. "I look like I'm 5 years old with this on."

One side of his mouth curved into a smile. "You look adorable."

"Just what every woman wants to hear, Grissom."

He stood up, brushing soil from his hands and wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He pulled a chair into the shade and sat down. "So let's talk about your infrequent forays into the use of my first name. Every once in a while, you will venture forth with a Gil, and then I don't hear it again for a week. Where are you at with that?"

She threw her arms up. "I don't know. You're Grissom. Always have been. I am trying to use Gil, but I'm having a hard time with it. You…don't seem like a Gil."

He chuckled. "Who do I seem like?"

"Ummm…how about Huggy Bear?"

He snorted and cleared his throat. "Not sure I could get used to that one."

"All right, Gil! I will try." She narrowed her eyes and gave him a sly smile.

He dragged his chair over until he was next to her. "You know Mark and Matthew are coming tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Matthew is helping me with a project, something…I'm not ready to talk about. He and I are going to need to leave for a couple of days, and Mark is going to stay with you. How do you feel about this?"

"Is this about Attica?"

The edge of his mouth twitched. "We just want to make sure she is taken care of."

She turned over on her side and smiled at him. "Thank you, Gri-, I mean, Gil."

"Honey, when you call me Grissom, it sounds like you're talking to your boss. I assume we are trying to get past that." He reached over and began to massage her belly. She moved into his hand and moaned a little. He began to massage a little lower. "Sara, what did the doctor say about this?"

She edged closer to the edge of the lounge. "He said that if, in the unlikely event, I felt like sex, it would be okay; just not too rigorous."

"Hmmm…he must know my reputation."

She giggled and slowly pulled the front of her dress up so his hands could find bare skin.

"What do you think, Sara?" His voice was low and she wanted to tell him he sounded like Barry White.

"I think that if you're into beached whales, then I'm game."

He slid his hand further up her dress and began to caress her swollen breasts. Then he leaned over and began kissing her neck. "You are a masterpiece, Sara, and there is nothing I would like better than to lie down with you for a long, slow afternoon of art appreciation."

She reached for his face and brought his mouth to hers. Their kisses were deep and curious and Sara was prepared to lose herself in them when she heard the rattle of a lawn mower being started. She pulled away and looked at him. "Are we going to be performing for the neighbors this afternoon?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow and looked up, scanning the other decks of the building. "Yeah, let's wait until we put a notice in the monthly co-op newsletter. Hardly seems worth the effort with only Ed Kort and Mrs. Henderson in attendance."

Together they maneuvered Sara off the seat and onto her feet. Grissom had her dress up over her head by the time they hit the bedroom.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Brass stood at the condo door for a minute. Again, he went over how he wanted to play this. It smacked of manipulation, and this really wasn't his style, but once the idea occurred to him, he was lost to it. Jim Brass wouldn't ever tell anyone this, but he was a dreamer. From the time he was a kid running the streets of Trenton, New Jersey, he was imagining a better world for himself and everyone he knew. He particularly loved to imagine a future where he would be a cop, saving lives and catching evildoers. Reality bites, but the truth was that he loved his job and reveled in the fact that, every once in a while, someone would be safer because of him or a bad guy would get put away.

Age hadn't mellowed his desire to nurture his dreams for himself and others. This particular idea had ruled his thoughts ever since Grissom brought Sara back to Vegas, and he found himself unable to resist.

He knew Grissom left for work by 10:00, and Brass had already checked in with his squad, telling them he was doing some routine follow-up. All he had to do now was knock and step into the middle of other people's lives.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I was on vacation last week, and did no writing. I am not relieved by the fact that I found it very relaxing to be away from the laptop. But, I have thrown myself into this again, and expect the finish to be in the next 2-4 chapters. I could pin it down better if I had the slightest clue as to what was going to happen next. I wish I sounded more focused, but I have to say that your encouragement always helps me get there.

Appreciation as always goes out to Marlou, the esteemed writer of the week on YTDAW. And she betas like a dream.

Sheila

**Hope Springs**

Chapter 15

Grissom stood on a hill behind the courthouse. A cool, prairie wind blew through his hair, and he wondered about bottling it and taking it back to Vegas. A feeling akin to nausea had settled in his stomach. Images of the afternoon played over and over in his head. He had flown into Sioux Falls this morning with Matthew in an effort to help bring closure to Attica's story. Easing Sara's mind was his ultimate goal.

To no one's surprise, neither the county or Attica's mom were much interested in his interference until he brought up his intention to foot the bill for her funeral. Then he found himself surrounded with willing collaborators. Just this afternoon he had taken a drive out to the home of Attica's, mother, Marianne Jones. Sara had told him about the smell and the dust of the house, but he was unprepared for the bodies of men stinking of stale beer passed out in the living room. Marianne was hungover as well(,) and sat at the table, her fingers trembling as she eased cigarette after cigarette up to her thin, dry lips. She was very receptive and began to tell him about her own life: early pregnancies, no support, county intrusion, and the eventual death of her child at the hands of social workers. She went on to explain how Attica's death had led to her multiple addictions to alcohol and crystal meth. Grissom listened politely to everything she said, but couldn't quite quell a feeling of unease in his gut.

Marianne began talking about the kind of funeral that she planned to give Attica when Matthew interrupted her.

"Ms. Jones, we want to clarify with you that Dr. Grissom will not be paying you any money. He will be paying various vendors who will be providing the service for Attica. Your job will be to mourn and remember your daughter as she so richly deserves."

Marianne left a cigarette hanging off her lips for a long minute as the ashes slowly burned its way up the tip. Her eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."

Matthew took in a deep breath. "It's much easier if we pay the vendors directly."

"I can't be trusted with your money is what you're saying." She let ash fall onto the table as she glared at the two men across from her.

Grissom pursed his lips for a moment and spoke, "Yes ma'am, that's what we're saying."

She pushed away from the table. "And you expect me to be the grieving mother?"

"It would seem a natural role for you, Ms. Jones." Matthew had a glint in his eye that cut the look she was giving him.

"This is no kind of help. This is…like all that other shit…where other people decide how I am going to live my life." She stubbed her cigarette in the sink, and then went in search of another.

Grissom pushed away from the table and stood. "Ms. Jones, this is what we are offering. You can mourn the loss of your child without worrying about expenses or interference from social services or the police."

She shook her head and stomped through the living room and out the front door. That was the moment that Grissom began to feel the nausea grow in his stomach. A few minutes later, when he and Matthew left the house, they found Marianne sitting on the front stoop shooting up crystal meth in plain sight. Grissom closed his eyes as he passed her. It was everything he could do not to reach out and snatch the works out of her hands. It would be a useless exercise. This woman showed no interest in changing anything about her life. He would have to take comfort in the fact that she no longer had any children in her home.

Matthew climbed the hill behind the courthouse to where Grissom stood looking out on the empty prairie. "Have you changed your mind, Gil?"

"No."

Matthew shook his head. "Are you sure? I don't even know if this can be done. Have no idea on the precedent for this kind of thing plus the fact that South Dakota law is a mystery to me…"

"Should I consult with someone local?" Grissom kept his face turned into the wind.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to Sara first?"

Grissom shook his head.

"Okay, Gil. I'll do it. I don't know how, but I'll do it."

Matthew waited for a sign from Grissom, but he got nothing. Finally, he turned and made his way down the hill through the yellow scrub of wild grass.

……………………………………………………………………………..

Sara had never really been angry at Jim Brass before. She found that while she was unsettled by the feeling, she was unable to dislodge it. He knew he was causing trouble when he came in the door with his apologetic smile and inability to look her in the eye. He even shuffled his feet like a little boy, and acknowledged that he had no business talking to her about this. Sara agreed and asked him to leave. He asked her to think about it, but she could think of nothing to say in response. Instead, she waved her hand at him in frustration, and retreated to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

For a few uncomfortable minutes, Jim Brass stood in the living room of his friend's condo, and waited for Sara to emerge. The silence was deafening, and, finally, there was nothing left for him to do but leave.

………………………………………………………………………………….

His call woke her from a restless sleep and she rolled over with much effort and stared at the clock. It was 9 p.m. Her sleep patterns had become so diffused that she had no idea if she should be finishing a cycle or beginning one. She grunted into the phone.

"You were sleeping," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

"My body has no idea when I should be sleeping and when I should be awake. It doesn't matter." Her voice was grainy and vague.

"Did you have a good day?"

She thought about Jim Brass standing in Grissom's living room telling her a bunch of information she had no interest in hearing. "Not particularly…you?"

"I met Attica's mother today."

"You don't have to say any more. I'm sure it was less than satisfying. Is she going to bury her child?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Umm…Gil?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I don't really know what's going to happen, Sara. I'm going to have to stay a few more days."

She groaned.

"What? What is it? Have you been having labor pains? Is everything okay? Is Mark helping?" The questions were nearly barked at her.

"Mark never came. One of his people had a car accident. He had to stay and cover."

"So you've been alone!" The tenor of his voice rose and she was startled by the energy of it.

"Gil, it's okay. I'm fine. No contractions." She wrestled with the bed in an effort to sit up.

"Has anyone come to visit?"

She winced. "Brass came by."

"Good. I'll arrange to have someone come and stay."

"No Gris—Gil, I'm minutes from the hospital and I have people stopping in all the time. I'm good. Just get back as soon as you can. It would be nice to have you around for all the fireworks, you know."

"If anything happens, Sara, and I mean anything, I will drop what I'm doing and get on a plane."

"Yes, yes…" she said, wondering if there would ever come a time when she wasn't captive to his need for control.

He seemed to sense her impatience. "All right. You don't seem yourself. Is everything okay?"

"No."

"What happened?" The force of his question again made her tense.

"It's okay. I handled it."

"What happened, Sara?" His voice lowered.

She sighed. "Jim talked to me about Lucy Bell."

"I don't understand." His tone was clipped, almost impatient.

"He wanted me to know the full impact that you and Lucy had on one another. He wanted me to understand the depth of what you went through after I moved to San Francisco. And he wanted me to know how hard it was on you after I reacted poorly to the idea of adopting her."

"He upset you!"

She had to take the phone away from her ear. Protective Grissom in all his controlling glory was beginning to tire her. "I handled it."

"He won't bother you again. I promise."

"Stop, Gil. I mean it. I handled it. It's over. You will not intervene. You will not say anything to him. It's under control."

"I can't believe he would do this. That…it doesn't seem like the Jim I know," he said, temporarily dodging her orders.

"He feels like you are still a prisoner to what happened with Julianne Phillips. Said it was a big blow to you; having to let go of that little girl. He says that he doesn't think you are ready to let her go. Says you have set up a trust for her, and you still call the social worker every week."

"Sara, I'm sorry. I didn't have any idea he would talk to you about this."

Sara occupied herself for a moment trying to shift her large belly into a more comfortable position before she was ready to dive in with the question that had been plaguing her since she slammed the door in Brass' face. "Is he right?"

"Sara, please."

"Grissom," she said sharply. "Is he right?"

At the other end of the phone she heard a frustrated gasp and then silence. Finally, his response came in a whisper. "I don't know."

Sara took the phone away from her ear for a moment as she struggled to suppress a sob. Her voice was tight with emotion when she spoke. "You…can't keep secrets like this from me; if you want this thing between us to work. I am assuming you want this to work?"

"Yes," came another whisper.

"Did I make you give up something you couldn't afford to lose?"

Silence reigned.

Sara worked to keep her voice steady. "Clearly, we can't resolve this on the phone. Finish what you need to finish and get back here. We need to talk."

She hit the off button before he could reply. For a long time all she could do was rest her cheek on the headboard and let tears fall down her face. She couldn't quite tell if she was hurt that he kept these feelings from her or mad at herself for denying him a relationship with the child. When she had found some level of composure, she again picked up the phone and started punching numbers. "Hey…This is Sara…Get your ass over here, Brass…You want to interfere so bad? Well, I'm sticking you smack dab in the middle of this mess…Uh-uh, cowboy, it's too late to back out now…I'm pregnant, angry, hungry, and every muscle in my body is stiff. So, of course, you decide to load me down with your little theories. Well, it's time for you to do some penance. Got me?...I need you here in twenty minutes with three of Manny's bean and cheese burritos, a quart of orange juice, fresh squeezed, and an appointment with Lucy's social worker…Oh, and unless you plan to give me a full body massage this afternoon, I need an appointment with a prenatal masseuse today…I have no earthly idea if there is such a thing, but if there is, you're going to find it. I am a 100 sure you are responsible for the knotted muscles in my lower back…I'm as serious as a heart attack...Twenty minutes." Hanging up on people was beginning to feel very good.

………………………………………………………………….

Grissom met with Detective Bellecourt in a roadside diner oddly called Happy Chef. The smell of bacon and coffee wafted up as he pushed through the door. The room was full of men with caps with cigarettes between their fingers, and women wearing thick make-up and polyester uniforms moved from table to table at a near run. One of the women eyed him and hustled him over to an empty booth, rattling off specials in the husky voice of a lifelong smoker.

A few minutes later, a tall, bronze man walked in slowly, leaning heavily on a cane. His dark eyes swept the room once, and immediately landed on Grissom. Slowly, he shuffled over to the booth. Grissom resisted the urge to wince at the obvious pain that radiated through him as he took every step.

He lowered himself into the booth with much effort. Grissom debated whether or not he should help him, but he got no invitation from the injured man. "We could have met at your home, Detective. You hardly look well enough to be out of bed."

Bellecourt finally relaxed into the booth and raised his face to Grissom. "I have eight brothers and sisters in town and all of them brought their children. My mother lives two doors down from me. Together, they, my wife, and my four children are smothering me. Every time I open my eyes, there are at least six people peering down at me, trying to feed me all manner of home remedies. They have two different medicine men visiting me. They are determined to stay until I go back to work; I currently have four tents pitched in my backyard. Coming here is a welcome respite from all that, I assure you."

Grissom smiled. "Sounds like you have no choice but to make a full recovery."

Bellecourt waved over a waitress who winked broadly at him and trotted off to the coffee pot without a word spoken. Within a minute, there were two thick, black cups of coffee sitting at the table in front of them. "Watch out, Dr. Grissom. Truckers are serious about their caffeine. This coffee packs quite a wallop."

"Just how I like it." Grissom took a sip of the strong brew and let the bitter flavor fill his mouth. "This is really good."

Bellecourt leaned over. "They make egg coffee here."

Grissom furled his brow. "I have no idea what that is."

"Old German recipe. Most of the Caucasians around here are only two of three generations from the old country. They stick eggshells in the grounds. I have no clue what it does, but there's nothing like it."

"I'm glad you came. I promised Sara I would see you while I was here."

"How is she?"

"34 weeks pregnant as of yesterday. She is doing well, although I don't think she enjoys being pregnant. She's been a little moody."

Bellecourt took a sip and smiled. "I'm the father of four, Dr. Grissom. I assure you that she is not enjoying her third trimester."

"She's alive because of your actions." Grissom focused his attention on the deep darkness of his cup.

"I was lazy. If I had thought it through, I would have remembered about Jesse. He was the perfect suspect."

"You had no idea he was at his mother's house."

He shrugged. "When you work rural like we do, you end up doing a lot of your police work solo. It means you got to have eyes at the back of your head, and a sixth sense about every person you talk to. But sometimes, it's not enough. Sometimes, you just gotta know what's going to happen before it happens. I wish that I had been more wary of that extra car in the drive. I wish that I had sent Sara outside and waited a while before I went up the stairs, you know, give her some time to get back-up. It would have saved everyone a lot of heartache."

"I don't know if you get to be that omniscient. It sounds like you did the best you could. And you stopped that little girl's killer."

He snorted. "I put a bullet in him right in front of his mother. I could have done better."

Reluctantly, Grissom nodded.

Bellecourt cleared his throat. "I hear you're up to some craziness down at the courthouse. Got a San Francisco lawyer down there making up laws as fast as he can think of them."

"Are we ruffling too many feathers?"

"Hell, old Judge Sorenson could use the excitement. He spends most of the week sitting at the local fishing hole."

Grissom took another sip. He wondered if the bacon was half as good as it smelled. "We're just trying to do right by her."

"It's a good thing, Dr. Grissom. In fact, I'm thinking you could use a character witness, and I have to admit that it'd probably look good to have me in your corner."

"You would do this?"

"Yeah. I want to be on this little girl's team."

"Look," Grissom gripped the warm mug with both hands. "I'm really here to say thank you. I…she means a lot to me. I can't really tell you…I'm not good at this kind of thing, but you took care of her and I want you to know that I'm very grateful."

Bellecourt smiled and looked away. "Hey Elsie. Bring us a couple of ranch specials." He looked back at Grissom. "I am guessing you're a sunny side up guy." He didn't wait for a response. "Elsie, have Harold fry 'em soft."

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sara squirmed in the brightly colored chair. She was sitting sideways as the table caught her mid-belly. She hadn't been to a McDonald's in ten years, and she could already tell that it had been a wise decision. She pushed the watery Sprite around the table as the older woman across from her looked at her with a bemused smile. Jim Brass had been exiled to the next table down.

"I don't know what I want," Sara growled for the second time.

"Okay. So tell me how many weeks you are." Mary Revoy stirred the paper cup of coffee in front of her.

"I'm 34 weeks, two days, five hours, and twenty three minutes."

"Sounds like you're having fun."

Sara rolled her eyes. "If you like carrying a thirty pound kicking machine strapped to your middle, then yeah, it's a barrel of monkeys."

"I called a friend. Jim's going to drive you over to a midwife I know who's going to massage some of that stress out of you."

Sara's eyes stung, and she suddenly felt embarrassed. "I'm not usually like this. I don't have anything to do but lay around in a bed all day. I'm not used to that, and…there's this thing. I didn't understand how important this girl is to Grissom. I made him stay away from her. I don't think I've ever done that before; made someone give up someone they cared about just because I wanted them to."

Mary chewed her bottom lip for a moment before she spoke. "It's infinitely more complicated than that, Sara. Not even Grissom knew what he wanted from this little girl. And you were right to be cautious. The two of you are embarking on something very new; it has to be done carefully. I'm not sure Lucy can fit into this equation. I'm not sure that Grissom wanted her just for her or because she was Julianne's daughter. This is not about you being selfish."

"Anyone interested in adopting her?"

"Nothing yet. She's not a baby anymore, she's bi-racial which can get complicated for adopting parents, and she's experienced a great deal of trauma. It's going to take a little while."

"What's she like?"

"Well, she's active, a little too active for her current foster mother. I'm looking for a new family for her."

"What does she like to do?"

Mary smiled. "She wants to be outside all the time. She likes to climb and dig and run. She's, um…not very social, but we are working on that. She's bright though; she's picking up language quickly and we're very impressed with her motor skills."

"Does she laugh?"

"Not much. She's experienced so many changes; it's hard for her to feel safe. She laughed a few weeks ago. She was playing in a sandbox, and…Grissom was there." Mary's eyes focused on the door behind Sara.

Sara turned her head. A woman in her fifties had walked in, a little girl holding her hand. She had a light green sundress and her curly hair was pulled up into a ponytail. Her hazel green eyes were startling against her soft, brown skin. "This is Lucy Bell?"

"Yeah. Come here, darlin'." The little girl ran past Sara and squirmed onto Mary's lap. She allowed Mary to give her a big hug.

"Happy meal," the child demanded when Mary let go.

"How about a cheeseburger one?"

Lucy nodded. Mary extended a five dollar bill to Lucy's foster mom, and the woman disappeared into a group of people crowding the registers.

"Lucy, this is Sara."

The little girl narrowed her eyes and then turned back to Mary. "She's fat."

Sara tried to suppress a giggle while Mary explained that she was having a baby. Sara leaned forward. "You're a very pretty girl."

Lucy wrinkled her nose, but didn't say anything.

Sara was stuck. She had very little experience with young children, and the fact that she was having one in a few short weeks did nothing to boost her confidence. She swallowed hard and plunged into the unknown. "Do you like to swing, Lucy?"

She slid off Mary's lap and pulled on Sara's arm. "Let's go."

Sara pulled herself to her feet. Brass started to get up, but she waved him away. "I got it. This is good for me." She let Lucy pull her outside.

Mary swung her face around and glared at Brass. "What's the rush? You couldn't wait a few months. Let her have the baby. Give Grissom time to be a parent. But you couldn't do that, could you? What? Did you think I was going to send Lucy off a Russian labor camp or something?"

He shrugged. "I got a little carried away, I guess. Figured…I don't know what I thought."

"She's already got a lot to deal with, and adopting a child is not on the agenda. Even if they wanted to, I wouldn't recommend them. They're simply not ready for this."

"You don't know Sara. They don't get any more stubborn than that woman."

"You're getting way ahead of yourself again, Jim. If she wants to get to know the child, that's fine, but I'm not thinking anything beyond that."

Brass cleared his throat. "It was good for her to get all the information though, don't you think?"

She screwed up her face at him. "Shut up, Jim. You are a complete menace."

………………………………………………………………………………

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Every once in a while, I capture bits of this story. I have a sense of the resolution, but no sense of the timing. BTW, have I told you lately that you guys rock. Your comments inspire me and keep me involved.

I want to extend my thoughts and prayers to those readers who are British. Such terrible events of the last week, and yet we can all learn a lesson from the tenacity of the average Londoner. The bombing blitz in WWII couldn't do it nor could the IRA. I have no doubt that terrorists will intimidate citizens of the UK.

Marlou does a fabulous job making my chapters readable. As always, I appreciate her.

Thanks for everything,

Sheila

**Hope Springs **

**Chapter 16**

The three of them sat side by side at the bar drinking beer. College basketball was on the TV, and so they forewent conversation in favor of the occasional shouting at a particular play. Nick finished his beer first, glanced at his companions, and then flashed the bartender three fingers. Three more bottles of beer appeared in front of them, and Nicky tossed a bill on the bar.

Another man entered quietly and slipped onto the stool next to Warrick. Nick put up one finger and another beer appeared on the bar. Warrick nodded at his seatmate and returned his attention to the screen. The man took a swig of the beer and winced. On the other side of Warrick, Greg caught his eye and smirked. "He would have preferred a glass of wine, Nicky."

Nicky raised an eyebrow. "And watch college ball? No way!"

David Hodges swallowed hard and reached for the beer again. "Hey, beer is exactly what I was hoping for."

Warrick chuckled and they all turned their attention from the game to watch Hodges take another drink. Unable to resist, Warrick gave him a friendly slap on the back and Hodges choked, spraying beer across the bar. Greg laughed the loudest, and then signaled the bartender to bring Hodges a glass of Merlot.

Nicky leaned over. "Does she know where we are?"

Hodges shook his head. "She's too busying putting the final touches on the decorations. I suggested putting the napkins in a nice fan design, but was roundly shot down in favor of some rather pedestrian looking piles. Same thing happened with streamer spiral I was doing for the tables. I figured if my opinion carried so little weight, I might as well just leave and hang out with you guys."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "Really don't know how to respond to all that."

Nicky raised his beer. "You know I consider myself to be just as modern as the next guy, but I don't really get the point of co-ed baby showers."

"I know." Mia slipped onto the stool next to him. "Especially if you don't have kids. I'm willing to fork over money for the gifts, but let's leave the ooohing and the ahhhing to the babymakers." She raised a long, elegant arm and smiled at the bartender. He smiled back and set a longneck down in front of her. She pulled up her cell, and quickly texted a message. Then she took a long swig and banged it on the bar. "Okay guys, catch me up. If Villanova is still up by the 3rd quarter, then Wilson must be having a good day. Nebraska still have Smith on injured reserve?"

Nicky sighed. "You sure you don't want to be the mother of my children?"

Mia elbowed him. "You can't afford me, Pretty Boy."

Warrick shook his head. "You're a hard woman, Mia. You're gonna break my boy's heart."

Nicky winked at Warrick. "It's okay. As long as she doesn't take out a restraining order, I know I have a chance."

Mia rolled her eyes and focused on the game.

"Anybody know if Grissom is coming? I heard he was out of town." Greg said.

"He better come. He started this whole thing. Hell, if we have to be here—"

"Well, you do and I don't want to hear another thing about it." The voice was low and dangerous.

Nicky smiled nervously and raised his beer. "Hey Cat, we were just taking a little break before the festivities."

Catherine stood there, hands planted firmly on her hips. "All I'm asking is two hours where we show a little support to a friend. Sara's been through a lot, you know."

"We were just staying out of your way while you get the room decorated." Warrick weakly argued.

"I don't care what you were doing. You're going to get up, leave the beers and march back into that banquet room and sit down. You're going to compliment the desserts at the appropriate time, tell her she is glowing, and when she opens her gifts I want you watching like it is the Super Bowl. If she wants to talk about stretch marks or swollen ankles, the only thing I want to see on your faces is sympathy. I see any funny looks, and I'm writing down names. Do you understand?" Four heads nodded. "Oh, and Mia thanks for the text message, I was looking for these guys all over the place."

Reluctantly, Warrick, Greg, and Nicky slid off their stools. Hodges stayed where he was, pointedly ignoring Catherine. She sighed. "All right, Hodges, the napkins are yours. Do whatever the hell kind of origami thing you want with them?" Finally, he climbed off the stool and walked past Catherine with a smug smile.

"Hey guys," Mia said as they walked past. "I had to do it. It's Catherine, you know. No hard feelings, right?"

Nick gave her a look. "It could have been so good, Baby. It could have been so good." Then he winked at her and followed his friends. She cocked her head and watched him leave with a strangely unidentifiable feeling in her gut.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Sara let Brass help her into a couch. She let him scoot over and steal a pillow from the other end of the couch to better anchor her back. Any independence she brought to this pregnancy she abandoned at week 36. She was officially miserable. She was heavy, stiff, tired, swollen, and achy. She burnt toast this morning and cried ten minutes about it. Yesterday, while she sat in the doctor's office and a blonde, pregnant woman with three small children was gushing at her about how wonderful pregnancy was, and, if she could, she would arrange to be pregnant all the time. If the woman had attempted that conversation without her children in the room, Sara was pretty sure she would have slapped her.

Brass went off in search of water for her, and she leaned back into the fortified chair. The room was empty, but there were mountains of gifts on a table and decorations littered the room. She secretly hoped that they were all called out on a case, and that she would arrange to have someone load up the gifts in the Denali. Then she would go back to Grissom's, lie down on the couch, and watch Raising Arizona for the fifth time this week. Before her daydream could gain any more steam, Catherine burst into the room with her friends and colleagues following. Despite her dour mood, she burst into smiles as her friends descended upon her.

She welcomed the hugs and kisses and inevitable massaging of her massive belly. She drank in the compliments about how beautiful she looked even though she knew she looked bloated and tired. Brass came back in and elbowed his way through to give her a glass of water. He waved the guys away from her and began fussing at them about overwhelming pregnant women. She almost jumped in to assure him she was fine, but she found it sweet that Brass was watching out for her so carefully. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Hodges worked frantically with a bunch of napkins at the buffet table. Catherine was hovering over him, arms folded, and shaking her head. Doc Robins, David, Bobby, Sophia, Archie, Judy, Vartann, O'Brien, and Jacqui wandered in with gifts and smiles for her. Her eyes popped a little when Ecklie showed up, but he was carrying a nice gift, and he sat down quietly with a glass of punch across from Sophia.

Catherine started a pool on the size, weight, and sex of the baby as well as the date of delivery. With an enthusiasm particular to citizens of Las Vegas, there was a vigorous round of wagering, and money being thrown into the pot. Sara figured that someone was going to end up with a tidy sum of cash out of this whole thing. Cat went onto other games, each of them with a Vegas edge such that the guys seemed genuinely disappointed when she was finished. Servers brought in a cart of desserts that looked amazing, and everyone was properly awed. Sara picked at hers as she was fighting some emotion in her gut. This was her very first party. No one knew and no know needed to know, but no one had ever before thrown her a party. She struggled not to think about parents who were too distracted by their own problems to remember when her birthday was coming, and foster parents who never even bothered to ask. By the end of high school, she had stopped celebrating all major milestones in her life. It was easier this way as the disappointment had taken a toll.

Every few minutes, her eyes fell on the banquet room door. He had said he would try to get there before the shower was over. She knew the flight was going to be late, but she was left feeling unsettled and anxious as his absence continued. He had stayed in South Dakota five days. He had been vague about reasons and her patience disabled hormones couldn't handle any more of his clouded answers, and so she kept his frequent calls short and curt so as not to drag him through too much of her emotional territory.

Catherine started thrusting presents at her. By the fifth one, she was unwrapping with tears running down her cheeks. She prayed that no one would notice as she had no interest in trying to unravel the complexity of her history or the tenuous nature of her emotional state. Catherine came up beside her with some Kleenex and began to lightly massage her back. She soldiered on through all the gifts, offering a hiccupy smile to each gift giver. Greg tried to ask her what was wrong at one point, but Brass reached over and pulled him back into his seat, telling him to shut up because pregnant women are like this, besides 'it's her party and she can cry if she wants too'. Half the party launched into Leslie Gore imitations. Doc Robins started to argue that Brass was acting like pregnancy was some sort of pathology. Brass told him to dry up. Warrick began spouting off information about the emotional life of pregnant women that he read about six months ago. Nicky challenged him on how he had the occasion to do research on pregnancy before anyone knew Sara was pregnant. Warrick informed him that Sara needed someone she could trust to give her advice early in her pregnancy. That comment set both Nicky and Greg on Warrick with all sorts of opinions about who could trust who. Hodges wandered away from the table to survey the damage that dessert eaters had made to his napkin designs. General chaos ensued, but that didn't stop Sara from methodically ripping open present after present, picking it up, displaying it for the raucous and largely inattentive room, and then reaching for another. Getting through this was her primary goal. She was reaching for a rather large one when two large hands appeared to pick it up for her. Her heart stopped momentarily as she looked into the kind eyes of Gil Grissom.

She willed herself to take this opportunity to really pull herself together emotionally, but she merely succeeded in graduating her tear streaked hiccups to a state where her body racked with sobs. Grissom put the gift down and slid onto the couch next to her, pulling her into his arms. She buried her head in his chest and let him rock her. A hush fell over the room as everyone took in for the first time, a tender Gil Grissom. Catherine got up and shooed them out of the room. She told them all to go back to the bar and then she followed.

"Were they not behaving for your party?" He whispered into her neck.

"They were fine," she sobbed.

"Are you tired? In pain?"

"No," she hiccupped. "Well, no more than usual."

"I don't understand," he whispered.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn't hold it all in. "I've never had a party before, ever, and I started thinking about my childhood and you weren't here and there were so many gifts and I look horrible and you still weren't here and then I was crying in front of everyone and it was embarrassing and that made me cry more and my ankles are huge and I used to love my legs and I hate that Leslie Gore song and every time I looked for you at the door, it was empty and—"

"Sshhh!" He said pulling her face up and stroking her hair. "I'm sorry, Sara. I was so busy working on Attica's situation, but I should have done a better job of remembering what you were going through. I am so sorry."

"No more leaving. Okay? I need you here."

"Understood! No more trips. I'm here to stay." He brought her head back to rest on his broad chest.

He looked up and saw Catherine standing at the door. She smiled, "Who would have imagined the two of you being so sweet together?"

The color in Grissom's face rose as he struggled to regain his composure. "I don't think Sara can finish this party."

Catherine snorted. "I don't think they can either. Brass just bought a round of shots for the bar; even Ecklie's drinking."

"I'm going to take her home now."

"Don't worry about a thing. We'll load one of the trucks and bring all of your loot over to the house tomorrow."

Sara lifted her head from Grissom's chest. "It was a lovely party. Thank you so much, Catherine."

There was something in how Sara said it that touched Catherine and she felt her eyes water. She blinked rapidly and smiled. "No problem, Sara. Go home. Get some rest. I'll come see you tomorrow."

Sara watched Catherine disappear into the bar and she turned to Grissom. "I don't think I'll ever live this down."

He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. "You're real, Sara, and that makes you perfect."

She melted again, and could hardly see through the tears as he led her out the door.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sara opened her eyes and focused easily in the dim light of early dawn. She hadn't slept in the same bed with him more than a few weeks altogether, and she still found it to be something of an exotic experience. Lying on his stomach, he spread himself across the bed, typical of someone with little experience sharing a mattress. Yet his arm draped over her, warm and sticky, as if guarding a possession, and she found no easy escape. Instead she had to content herself with his grip on her belly. She began to stroke his arm, marveling at the amount of hair a man carried on his body. She slid her hand up to his biceps and kneaded the thick muscles in his upper arm. He felt like the most magnificent beast. A chill ran down her spine, and she sucked in a breath. The reality of him still stunned her. He grunted at her touch and an electric blue eye popped open. She smiled warmly at him and lightly brushed her fingers over his eyes. They closed again gratefully, and she realized how tired he must be. She shifted her body away a little as she contemplated getting up, but his arm tightened across her middle. The gesture made her smile. She found that she had no real desire to disturb the perfection of this moment and so she closed her eyes, and focused on bringing her breathing back into rhythm with his.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

"You haven't talked to him!" Brass shifted in the lounge chair. Sara looked up at him from the sky blue water of the Sand hotel pool. She shrugged at him, continuing to bob Lucy up and down in the water. Lucy was in a ridiculously bright pink swimsuit buoyed by a yellow duck water ring. Her curly hair carried jewels of water droplets, and her eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as she kicked her pudgy legs and contemplated the enormity of her situation.

Mary Revoy chuckled from her spot on an adjoining chair. "It's pretty clear that she has never been in a pool before. Look at her face."

Sara returned her attention to the child. "It's okay, Sweetie." She pulled her in and gave her a big hug.

"Notice how independent she is. She's so determined to figure this out. Most kids would just start crying." Mary shook her head in amazement.

"Yeah, let's go back to the part where you haven't told Grissom that you have been visiting Lucy." Brass gave up in the bright sun, and was working to shed his suitcoat.

Sara was helping Lucy tread water in circles. "I haven't had a chance."

"Really? He's been back two days."

"He's been very busy running around on all around town on these vague, weird errands that he never really explains. So now, I have my little, secretive thing, and I plan on telling him just as soon as I know what to say." Keeping her hands firmly around Lucy's middle, Sara started moving her away from the edge.

Brass turned his attention to Mary with his hands in the air. "What are we doing here?"

"Geez, Jim. I was under the impression that you'd already thought this thing through. We're just waiting for you to make the next move."

"I used to think Social Workers were fairly decent human beings," he growled.

She chuckled at him and focused on Sara guiding Lucy around in circles. "Jim, sometimes you just have to let life unfold before you. Right now, I'm not doing anything but watching. That's what I've been doing the last 6 visits between these two, and I don't mind telling you that I am beginning to like what I see."

"Yeah, but what does that mean, Mary?"

She shook her head. "Don't know yet.

"I'm supposed to just accept that?"

"Yes, you are. There are no guarantees in life. Ask Lucy, she'll tell you all about it." Mary got up. "I think I'm going to get some lemonade for everybody." She didn't wait for an acknowledgement as she walked by the man with his head in his hands.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

She wiped down Lucy's wiry little body rigorously like she remembered her mother doing when she was a little girl. She rubbed the towel through Lucy's curls until there was nothing but a big ball of hair on her head. Lucy bore all of this with patience, her little hands gripping Sara's shoulders as she dried her. Sara pulled a yellow frock out of the bag that Mary gave her and pulled it over the little girl's head. Lucy's hair was a tangle, and Sara couldn't get her fingers through it.

"Sounds like I have a few things to learn about curly hair." She chuckled as she tried to smooth the wild locks.

"Mommy?" The little girl touched her face.

Sara sat flat on the ground, groaning as her massive middle fought for space. She looked Lucy in the eye. "I don't know, Baby. I don't know."

Lucy frowned, her bottom lip trembling, "Please."

Sara gathered her up in her arms and squeezed her tight. "You're a good girl, Lucy, and you're going to have a great family. I promise you that."

The child's arms squeezed her tightly around the neck. "Please be my Mommy."

Sara wondered how the three year old could possibly have such insight about what was happening around her. "It's going to be okay, Lucy. I'm not going anywhere."

She rocked her back and forth until the little girl grew quiet in her arms. She knew she hadn't answered Lucy's pleas, and the deception lay heavy in her mind. Mary came in, and Sara looked up. "We need to talk."

…………………………………………………………………………………………

The sun had set by the time Sara returned to his place. She hoped that there would still be enough time to get this conversation off the ground before he left for work. Convincing him that they needed to love and care for Lucy was the easy part; the hard part would be making the case for bringing in an adopted child the same time they would be dealing with a newborn. Several times in recent weeks, he had commented on how foolish it had been for him to suggest that they could take care of the two children at the same time, especially when they had no idea how to handle even one.

Her mind was racing with different ideas on how to start this conversation when he opened the door and let her in. There was an odd look on his face, and behind him there was an older woman with a long braid sitting on the couch. Sara walked past him and smiled at her. There was something familiar about her, but Sara couldn't tell what it was.

Grissom gently placed his hand on her back and gestured at the woman. "Sara Sidle, I would like to introduce you to my mother, Olivia Grissom."

Sara felt like he had knocked the breath right out of her. She strangled a greeting and reached over to shake hands with the small woman. The woman was beautiful, her face serene and open. She captured Sara's hand with both of hers, and pulled her onto the couch beside her. "I am so glad to meet you, Sara."

Olivia's voice sounded tinny and flat. Sara had no experience with sign language, and hadn't even considered how important it would be to know how to communicate with her baby's grandmother. "It's nice to meet you, Olivia." She looked up at Grissom, confusion etched on her face. "I didn't know."

His smile was almost a grimace. "My mother surprised us."

Olivia began signing furiously at her son. Grissom cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving his mother's hands. "I want to apologize for the intrusion, but my son…" Grissom made a face. "was not giving me regular updates and it had become very frustrating for me."

Grissom's hands responded and his mother threw her hands up in the air. Sara looked frantically from person to person. "What's going on? I'm not following."

Olivia caught her eye and dropped her hands. "We have to talk for Sara, Gilbert."

"Is everything okay?" Sara looked from Grissom to Olivia. "I am very glad that you are here. I just wish I was a little more prepared. I am something of a mess these days."

Olivia smiled and grabbed Sara's hands. "It's okay. I have wanted to meet you so very badly."

"I wish I had learned some sign for you." Sara said

"My mother is very good at reading lips. Just make sure you are looking straight at her when you talk."

Olivia smiled at Sara. "You are very lovely, Sara. My son is a lucky man. You'll have to tell me how you manage to put up with him; so few people can."

Grissom got his mother's attention. "Mom, let's focus on my strengths. Okay?"

Olivia dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Go away, Gilbert. Sara and I need to get to know each other."

And so Grissom did. And when he left for work, they were still sitting there having what must have been a very patient yet exhausting conversation. Something deep in him stirred and he realized, for the first time, that this would be his life now; never again would he return to an empty house.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: This will be done by chapter 20. I promise you. Writing shorter stories is a goal of mine, but it's hard 'cause I get engrossed in the energy of the epic. This is a long chapter. The rest should be as well. Lots of loose ends to tie. I admire those of you with the fortitude to wade through this whole thing. You have been great at encouraging me, and I love to hear from you.

Marlou did a wonderful job as beta for a long chapter. As always, I express my gratitude.

Sheila

**Chapter 17**

**Hope Springs**

Grissom took his mother to the Vegas conservatory. Rich, vibrant orchids filled the air with a light perfume. Cool air that eluded the hot desert city flowed through the greenhouse like a glass of cold lemonade on a hot, sticky day. Arm in arm, they strolled the lush gardens, the sounds of a bubbling brook filling the room. Olivia spotted a stone bench and led her son to it. They sat and she arranged herself so that she had his visual attention. Her elegant hands went to work. "Sara is lovely."

Grissom responded. "She is."

"So what's next?"

He blinked. "I don't understand, Mom. What do you mean?"

"What is she to you? Your roommate, Gilbert? Your friend? Your girlfriend?"

"I'm not interested in labels."

"Honey, you have this beautiful woman camped in your apartment with no idea of what comes next. Your second bedroom is still filled with your equipment and books. You have the crib stuffed in a corner."

Grissom chuckled. "Don't worry about space. I have some storage space in the basement. I was going to move everything down this weekend."

"And your child will sleep in a bedroom with sage green walls and brown drapes. His toys will be textbooks and microscopes. Where will Sara's space be? What about her things?"

"She seems happy."

Olivia smiled at her brilliant son. "She's in love. You are too. Both of you are living day to day. It's wonderful to see you this happy, but it can't go on forever. One day, she's going to wake up and wonder what it's all about, and you're going to look at her with a blank stare on your face."

He signed furiously at her. "We don't have to know everything right away."

She grabbed his large hands and spoke, "You have to learn how to have those conversations. Love is not enough. Relationships take work. You can't just hope it all falls into place."

He mouthed the words at her, "I can't risk it."

"You have to. If she's worth having, then she's worth fighting for."

Exasperated, Grissom looked away. Olivia reached over and pulled his face back. "When you want something to grow, you need to nurture it. Do you understand?"

He avoided her gaze.

"I'm going home now so you can do this thinking. Once the baby is born, call me and I'm on my way back here."

"You don't need to leave."

"Yes I do. I don't just sit around the house, you know. I have a gallery to run."

"You'll come when I call?"

She smiled at her son. "When have I not?"

Grissom swallowed hard, "How did I spend so much of my life clueless about relationships with you as my mother?"

"You're very orderly, son. You never absorbed it before because you never thought you needed it."

…………………………………………………………………………………….

"Of course, you can adopt alone, Sara, but that's not the point," hissed Mary as she struggled not to raise her voice. Around them, the relative calm of the coffee shop remained undisturbed by the growing intensity of their conversation.

Sara leaned as much of her pregnant girth forward as she could. "It's working, Mary. For the first time, it's working. We don't fight. I don't want to disturb it."

"Can I tell you how beautifully you just illustrated my point? The two of you are in a relationship without definition. How would Lucy fit in? Where would she belong? It seems you have a lot of work to do before you start taking in a new child."

"But, I feel like this is the right thing. He will love her, he already does—"

Mary pointed a short, stubby finger at Sara. "Uh-uh-uh, I am right and you are wrong, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better. The child needs stability. You can't guarantee that."

"How long will you wait?" Sara sat back heavily in her chair.

"I won't. This doesn't happen on your schedule. This is only about what is best for Lucy." Mary sniffed at her cooling coffee and pushed it away.

Sara stared down at the empty bottle of water in front of her. Absently, she began picking off its paper label. "Am I the only one looking at Lucy right now?

"No," Mary replied softly.

Still staring down at the table, Sara nodded. "Tell me about them."

"Well, it's a pretty amazing opportunity for Lucy. They are a bi-racial couple who are well prepared for cultural and identity issues that Lucy might face in adolescence. The husband has a good job as an engineer, and the wife is prepared to stay home and raise Lucy."

Sara raised her head reluctantly. "They sound perfect."

Mary shrugged. "Possibly. On paper, they look great, but I haven't had time to really watch them with Lucy."

"So that's it then." Sara slumped in her chair, staring at a point on the wall beyond Mary.

Mary's eyebrows rose. "Really? Giving up just like that, huh?"

Sara snorted. "I can't compete with that. I don't know children. I am perfect for no child; not even the one I'm carrying."

"Then why did Lucy pick you?"

Sara's eyes watered and she rubbed at them. "What are you doing? Please tell me what you are doing. What do you want from me?"

"I'm not looking for perfect. I am looking for ferocious, selfless, pure love and devotion to this child. That, above else, will determine my next step."

Sara closed her tearing eyes. "Does it help you to know that she lives in my heart? Do you understand what I would be willing to sacrifice for her?"

Mary leaned over and grabbed her hands. "Sara, listen to what I am saying. Talk to Grissom. Have the hard conversations. Tell him what you feel. Find a future with or without this man, but find something so I can see you as a stable presence for Lucy. Do you understand?"

She nodded reluctantly. Before either of them could speak, a shriek sounded at the other end of the room. They turned their heads sharply to see a woman with a hand over her mouth wide eyed, watching the TV perched above the coffee bar. A yellow banner ran along the bottom of the screen. Sara couldn't read it from where she sat and so she slowly pulled herself to her feet. Other people also gathered around the TV, arms folded tightly, murmuring to one another. Sara squinted behind them and saw the ticker reporting another kidnapping of a child. It was the third in two months. Grissom had been double shifting almost every night for the last two weeks. Sara felt removed from it and helpless. This is what she knew how to do. Find criminals. But here she stood, swollen beyond comprehension, watching this horror unfold on a local news channel.

Beside her Mary whispered, "You don't have time to talk to him at all these days, do you?"

Sara wished she could say that this was the only thing holding her back. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment and responded, "Promise me that you won't take Lucy to the park until this is over. This guy, he goes to parks and snatches children in broad daylight. She's going to hate it, but she needs to stay indoors until this guy is caught."

"Do you have a profile on this guy?"

"Grissom won't tell me much, and no one else has much time to visit. We…they haven't found the children, and so his purpose isn't clear; although the purpose of stealing children is not often hard to guess. His pathology is beyond his control now. Grabbing children is becoming a compulsion." She gestured at the screen. "Here's a prime example; he took a child two weeks ago, and one another 6 weeks before that. The intervals between kidnappings is starting to close. He can't stop himself. Promise me that you'll keep her indoors, no public places."

"Yes," Mary said, her eyes glued to the screen.

"I should be there. It's where I belong. It's what I do." Sara chanted the words softly.

Mary saw the fever grow in Sara's eyes, and she felt like she was seeing her for the first time. Sara backed away from the TV, and went in search of her bag.

"You still up to seeing Lucy this week?"

Sara was digging for keys in her bag and looked up. "Please. Yes. I want to see her."

"Sara, take care, okay. I realize that you are almost due, but there's no reason to push yourself."

Sara nodded at Mary as she gathered up her things and hurried past her. Mary watched her go, shaking her head as she considered the staggering complexity of this woman. She cleared the table for both of them, and was getting ready to leave when her phone rang. She looked at the display and smirked, "Hi Grissom."

"Mary, I was calling to check on Lucy."

Mary rolled her eyes. "She's good. Do you want to see her?"

The other end of her cell was silent. Finally he spoke, "No, I don't think so. I was calling to make sure that you were taking precautions with her. There's been another kidnapping, another child about Lucy's age. Make sure the foster parent does not take Lucy to a public park. Understand?"

"Yes, I've already been given this warning."

Grissom sounded puzzled. "Oh, uh, okay."

"Everything's under control. She's fine."

Another silence and then, "Anyone interested in adopting her?"

Mary smiled. "Two possibilities, actually. A bi-racial couple is interested, and this is wonderful for obvious reasons, and then there is also a single woman who is interested."

"It doesn't seem like much of a choice, does it?"

"These things are complex, Grissom. Two parent families and cultural matches are always optimal, but there are other factors, more intangible ones. The single woman has many qualities that I like, and she seems quite connected to Lucy."

She could sense impatience in his tone. "Since when are two parent families not the best situation for raising children? Lucy deserves the best. What are you thinking?"

"Uh, right now, I'm thinking that I shouldn't have conversations about Lucy's adoption with you."

His voice softened. "I just want to make sure that she gets everything she should have."

"Good! Me too. Now let me do my job. I'm a lot better at it than you seem to think." She let him feel every bit of fury she held from working with abandoned and abused children for thirty years.

"Mary, I apologize. You have been a tremendous advocate for her."

"Yes, well, I'm doing everything I can to make the right choices for her. And, believe me, you have no idea how complex it has become. Tell me, Grissom, how do you feel about impeding fatherhood? You are only days away."

He chuckled. "Overwhelmed is the only word that comes to mind."

"Okay, Grissom, that's as good a place as any to start. Things are about to get a whole lot more confusing for you. My advice is that you consider new opportunities as blessings rather than burdens."

"I'm afraid you lost me there," he said and she could imagine the confused look on his face.

"It'll become clear to you soon enough I expect. I gotta go. Lucy is not the only foster kid I have and I need to make sure everyone is taking precautions." She clicked off her phone before he could ask any more questions.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Grissom looked up when Catherine leaned against his door. She smiled at him and walked in, not waiting for an invitation. She stretched out in a chair and narrowed her eyes at him. "This is not a good time for you to be working double shifts. She needs you at home."

He sighed and pulled his glasses off his face. "And if I don't work on this, another child might disappear."

She chuckled. "Gil, you are not the only one around here that can handle a crime scene. At least give us credit for the fact that you trained us, and, thus, we should know something."

He let out a puff of air. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like I think I do this alone or that I am the only one who can…"

She waved a hand at him. "Forget it. Let's return to the topic of Sara. That child is ready to burst forth, and as far as I can see, you're acting like nothing is going on."

Color rose in his cheeks and he tensed. "I am getting all sorts of advice these days about Sara, and it's getting a little tired. She and I will figure out what our relationship is when we are damn good and ready."

"Okay," Catherine appeared unmoved by the passion of his words, "but you are not very good at this, you know? If I were you, I would welcome the help."

He dropped his head into his chest and she waited until his face shot up again. "Okay then, what about a house? My mother says the condo is too small, and though I'm not aware of how much space a baby takes, I'm sure she is right. What do you think? Should I go out and buy a house?"

"For whom?" She seemed to enjoy his discomfort.

"For Sara…and me if she'll have me."

Catherine licked her lips. "Sounds like a commitment to me."

"So you think it's a good idea?" He leaned forward.

"Not particularly. Look Gil, the trick here is to learn how to work together with her and make decisions as a team; tell her what you feel. That is going to show much more about what this relationship is about than showing up with a key to a new house. Do you understand?"

He sighed. "The house idea seemed like a good one."

"No, it seems like the easy one. You do need a new place, but it's something that the two of you should do together, you know? You have to stretch some of these new relationship skills we've been dying to see. Sara doesn't care if she gets a house now or in six months, she just wants to know your heart. I think she's earned it, don't you?"

Grissom seemed poised to respond when Greg appeared in his doorway. "So I just saw Sara, but she went into Ecklie's office. When she gets out can you tell her that I'm in the garage processing the car we impounded, and would love to see her."

Greg disappeared again before Grissom could say anything. Catherine blinked her eyes in response. "Do you think he saw someone who looked like her?"

"Ah, Sara's pretty easy to identify these days." Grissom grabbed his glasses, got out of his chair, and headed down the hall with Catherine at his heels.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Sara strode down the hallway of the lab as unobtrusively as possible, but her presence and size prompted whispers and looks. She waved at friends, but kept moving until she was in Ecklie's office. He looked up as she marched in, considered the available chairs, and settled for leaning against the back of one of them. She cleared her throat and said, "Ah, Ecklie, let me just say thank you for coming to my shower."

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You didn't much look like you were enjoying it."

She grinned. "Well, looks can be deceiving, and, actually, that's why I am here today. You got a big case: kidnapper, probable pedophile, and I'm not doing anything until this baby comes, and so I thought you might need some help."

He creased his brow. "What kind? Field work and lab work is out. Can't risk the liability with you at this stage in the pregnancy."

"There are lots of other things. I can process and tag evidence. Do research. Whatever you need. And best of all, I am offering my services free of charge."

"What's up? Grissom's cable TV on the fritz?"

She took a deep breath. "No, Ecklie, I'm bored and I'm a highly skilled forensics investigator, and, unless I miss my guess, you could really use some help."

He narrowed his eyes at her. She could see that he was in no position to refuse her and so she waited patiently for his response. "Limited hours only and since you are no longer an employee of this department, we hire you on an hourly basis. You work only if—"

"What's going on, Sara?" A stern looking Grissom was standing in the doorway.

She turned and regarded him for a moment. "I'm coming back to work."

"No you're not. You need to go home and rest until this baby comes."

She rolled her eyes at him. "First off, I have not been on bed rest since the 36th week, and second of all, I am not resting at home. I'm bored and I'm going to go crazy unless I find something to do."

"There are books to read, things to prepare." He moved toward her as if ready to take her by the arm and direct her out of the lab. Ecklie looked on with the intensity of a kid with a new video game.

She glared at him. "I have read 42 books on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting. The nursery is as good as it is going to get, and I can't even fit all the baby clothes in the closet. Ecklie hired me only for part time, doing nothing but processing evidence and research. I will not work more than six hours a day and it might help stimulate this baby to come out already."

He stopped moving when he saw the look on her face. "It's too stressful."

"You want to know stressful? Stressful is sitting in your condo, day after day, watching my body mushroom, saying little more than hello and good-bye to you, and feeling like that I have no purpose."

He closed his eyes. "I don't want you in the middle of this. I know you. It is one of those cases."

Ecklie raised an eyebrow. "If this is going to distract Grissom from his work, then I am going to have to turn down your offer, Sara."

"Please Gil." It felt odd using his name publicly like this. "I want to be a part of something. And the baby can come anytime now so it won't be for long."

"She can do it. It'll be okay. Nothing wrong with pregnant women working. If you remember, Gil, I worked until the day before I delivered." Grissom whirled around to find Catherine in the doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Catherine, if I wanted your advice—"

"You'd be too stupid to ask for it," she said.

"Can I throw in my two cents?" Ecklie ventured.

"No!" Catherine barked.

Ignoring her, Ecklie took a deep breath. "You know, Gil, if you want to make this work, you are going to need to give Sara some space to be who she is."

They all turned to stare at him. Ecklie sat there with a smug smile and his hands neatly folded on his desk.

"Conrad, please stay out of this," Grissom said.

"Why? He's making sense." Sara challenged, hands on her hips.

"Yeah, tell us why." Catherine added.

"My private life is not for public consumption!"

To her credit, Sara didn't blink an eye when he blustered. Calmly she entered the fray, "This is not your private life. It's ours."

"I know that. I'm just getting frustrated with all of this." He threw his hands out wide.

"Ecklie is right, Gris. You have to give me space. Let me be who I am. I'm not some recent acquisition to your collection. I'm not going to just sit around waiting for you to make decisions for me. You have to learn to negotiate."

"That's not how I view…I'm not trying to come off…" A frustrated Grissom trailed off.

"Nevertheless, the only thing standing in the way of my working here is you. You have no logic to back you up."

Grissom looked down for a moment as if in thought, and then he looked up and nodded. "Okay then, I'm going to leave in six hours and you are coming home with me. Tomorrow, you can come for six hours only. Do you understand? This is not negotiable."

She grinned and shook her head. "Of course it is. That's the beauty of it. It's all negotiable. But, for the record, I agree to these conditions, and will go home every day like a good girl so I can spend lazy afternoons in bed."

"Come on, girl. We have bags of things that need sorting." Catherine gestured at her.

Sara wrinkled her nose and smiled at Grissom as she passed. "You're not the boss of me, you know. No matter what happens between us, I will always be me."

Ecklie cleared his throat when they left. "Let me know if there is anything else I can do. I have years of marital therapy under my belt."

Grissom grimaced at his boss, fighting the urge to remind Ecklie that he was now divorced. Without another word, he headed out the doorway almost bumping into Nicky and Warrick walking toward him. They parted to let him by, turning to watch him go.

"Did you see Sara leave just before this? I wonder what's going on." Nick creased his dark brows.

Warrick leaned over to his friend. "I believe they call this Baby Mama Drama."

Nick screwed up his face. "Baby mama drama?"

Warrick shook his head. "Not like that. You gotta say it fast and hard like this, Baby Mama Drama!"

Nick arched a brow at Warrick. "You must really miss the 'hood."

Warrick rolled his eyes and started to walk off, turning his head to say, "Yeah Nick, I get all misty eyed when I remember the drive-bys and the drug deals on the corner."

Nicky let a grin grow out of one side of his mouth and trotted after him.

………………………………………………………………………………………

The drive home was silent. She wasn't intimidated by that. In fact, he had done a nice job of stepping back into the role of work colleague, and had let her work unhindered for her entire shift. She had gotten a taste of just how difficult this case was, and sympathized with his frustration. But she was distracted. Uppermost in her mind was the conversation they needed to have.

They got back to his place, and she still struggled for the right words. It was his routine to wash up quickly and go straight to bed, and so she was surprised when he made coffee and settled into the sofa. She lowered herself down beside him. He reached up and stroked her face. "I'm sorry for how I acted. I still have a lot to learn."

She leaned into his touch. "This is not going to be an easy transition for either of us."

"Sort of begs the question of where we are transitioning to."

His soft voice enveloped her, but she stopped the conversation she was so desperate to have. Her deception had gone far enough. "I, um…I saw Lucy Bell."

A confused look etched into his face. "I don't understand. Lucy Bell? You saw a picture of her? Did Brass give you one?"

"No, Gil, I saw her. I've been seeing her on a regular basis for the last 8 weeks."

He blinked. "I don't understand."

"I see her twice a week. I meet Mary Revoy somewhere and we talk and then I play with Lucy Bell."

"Why?"

"I forced you into this sacrifice and I needed to understand what I had done to you." She had trouble keeping eye contact with him.

He edged away from her.

"She's beautiful and sweet and I love her."

He launched himself off the couch and started pacing. "Uh, Sara, how did we miss having this conversation for 8 weeks?"

She licked her lips. "Well, I wanted to see her for myself. I…didn't want to put you through any more, and once I saw her, I realized that she was special and then I didn't know what to say…I still don't."

"You understand that it's impossible, right? You said so yourself."

She watched him pace. "I was wrong."

"Sara, she's already got a family lined up, and there's a single mother who is interested."

"Gil, I'm the single mother."

He stopped and stared at her, color rising in his face. "So that's what it's going to be. That's what you want!"

She realized that he wasn't reacting to Lucy anymore. "No, I do not want to be the single mother, but I didn't know how to have this conversation with you."

"Okay, Sara, what do you want?"

She spoke slowly. "I want you. And I want this baby. And I want Lucy. I want everything."

He stared at her, frozen.

"This is what always makes me afraid to have this conversation with you. The stone face. I can't read you when you're like this." She could feel the tears well up in her eyes.

"How can we do this, Sara? Already, we struggle so much, and we haven't even had one child." His voice grew soft and he collapsed into a chair across from her.

"Struggle is born of intention, Gil. It's a good thing. It means we want this very much." She searched desperately for the right words. "I don't know if we can make this work, but I want to try. You and me together is worth every ounce of strength that I have."

He swallowed hard. "Is it really hard for you to know what I feel? I try to show it every moment I am with you."

She shrugged. "You're not used to sharing yourself with others. I know you care and I think you love me, but beyond that…I really don't know."

"I worry, and I want to do all of this correctly. I realize that I sit on my emotions sometimes, but it doesn't mean I don't care."

She attempted to pull herself up off the couch, but one grunt later, she had fallen back into its depths. He smiled and came over to her. He grabbed her hands to hoist her up, but she jerked him down into the couch beside her. She reached for his face with both hands, and searched his eyes. "Let's do it, Gil. Let's fight for her. We're strong enough, smart enough, and we would love her so completely. I know it. Imagine what it would be like if we did this together. We could protect her from anything."

He stared at her quietly.

She licked her lips and tried again. "What do you want, Gil?"

He traced his fingers along her jaw line. "You make me believe that I can do this."

"You can."

Then he burst out with, "Sara, would you marry me?"

Her breath caught in her throat. "Are you really asking me that?"

He smiled. "I am.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why Grissom? Tell me why."

"Because you are beautiful and brilliant and brave. I like your long legs and the freckles on your arms. I like your smile. Actually, I adore everything about your mouth even how you frown when you're concentrating on evidence. I like that your hair stays the same chestnut brown it was when I first met you." He took a breath. "I get lost in your eyes."

She started to respond, but he pressed fingers against her mouth. "You are so fierce. Such a fighter. You amaze me with your strength and your spirit. You make me laugh, and you make my heart ache. I don't know what else to say except that I can't seem to function when you're not here."

"Maybe you should see a therapist," she whispered, a tiny grin pulling at the edges of her mouth.

"I love you, Sara. I have never felt anything this strongly before, and, God help me, I don't know what I will do if you don't say yes."

She leaned in until her mouth was at his ear. "No."

Grissom deflated and pulled away from her. She reached for him, but he got to his feet and walked away.

"Not fair, Grissom. I'm trapped here on the couch; can't even chase you around."

"This is amusing to you, is it?" He began walking out of the room.

"Stop!" she ordered. He halted at the door, but kept his back to her while she spoke. "I can't marry you…now. It's too…stilted like we have to quickly get to the courthouse before I deliver. Or let's get married so we can have Lucy. I don't want that. Let's get married because we can't imagine any other kind of future or when we think it will make the relationship something more than it already is."

He whirled around and threw his arms up in the air. "Then what are we doing? You said you wanted this."

She shook her head. "I said I wanted you. There's a difference."

"Are we speaking the same language?" He pulled off his glasses in frustration and stood there.

"Ask me again when there's no pressure to do it. Ask me when you want to do it only because it's time. I will marry you, but let's wait until it's right."

"Really?"

"Hell, yes." She shifted so she could curl her legs under her bloated form. "Do me a favor and stop jumping around. Just come here and sit down with me. Please!"

He shook his head and allowed a chuckle to escape. He walked over and slipped down onto the couch with her. She searched his eyes. "Will you ask me to marry you again?"

"Guess you won't know 'til I do."

She raised a hand to hit him and he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. She allowed herself to rest her head on his broad chest. He held her tightly, stroking her hair while she listened to his heartbeat. "Sara," he whispered. "It doesn't matter if I ask you today or six months from now. The question's going to be the same. I'm not going anywhere. You see, I've got this crazy woman in my life, and a baby on the way. Plus there's this little girl that needs a family. So there's no way I'm getting away. And I'm pretty sure that if I tried, this beautiful…crazy woman of mine would track me down like a rabid dog."

"You bet your ass she would," she murmured into his shirt.

"So tomorrow, I'm going to call Mary and tell her that Lucy belongs with us."

She smiled and closed her eyes, content to stay in his warm embrace. "Thanks Grissom."

"Sara," he murmured, "we talked about the name."

"Get over it," she growled. "You're always going to be Grissom to me."

…………………………………………………………………..

Her back ached, and shifting about on the high backed chair did nothing to alleviate her discomfort. On the table in front of her lay the debris from the latest crime scene. Candy wrappers, napkins, and other litter were spread out in front of her. Sara turned to Warrick who was working at the other end of the table. "The scene was this dirty? What kind of radius did you use?"

He looked up. "Just the requisite; twenty meters in all directions from the point the child was taken."

"Doesn't this seem like a lot of litter?"

He leaned both hands on the table and considered her question. "There was an excess of litter at the other spots as well. Catherine thought that maybe the perp left it while waiting for the victim, but all of the scenes are out in the open, and I can't imagine that a man eating junk food out in the open among young children for any extended period of time would go unnoticed."

She shook her head. "I don't get it. Any prints on these wrappers?"

"Nope. Everything was dusted, and there are a variety of prints, all of them run down, but nothing ties one scene to another. Random. Kids. Mothers. Almost no adult men."

"Does it mean something?"

He turned his palms up. "I wish I knew. We're all operating on little sleep and gallons of coffee. I'm having a hell of a time concentrating."

She shrugged. "Could be a coincidence. Busy park. Maybe something is going on with maintenance. Who knows? Lots of parks are dirty these days." She winced and let out an 'oomph!"

His eyebrows shot up, but she shook her head. "No such luck. I have been having contractions on and off all week, but nothing serious. They time about an hour apart."

"When was your due date?"

"Yesterday," she groaned, one hand on her belly, the other bracing her back.

"Okay so what's the holdup?"

She chuckled. "This isn't on a schedule. He's coming when he is good and ready. Doc says if I don't deliver in the next week, he's going to induce me, and if my child waits that long, I'm going to hold it over his head for the next 30 years."

He gave her one of his lazy, warm smiles. "You're going to be a good mom, Sara."

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. "So let's not tell Grissom about the contraction. He drags me to the ER whenever I have one, and then we sit around for hours until they see me and then all they do is counsel me on not being so trigger happy and I cannot convince them that I'm not the one with the problem, but nobody listens to the moody, hormonal pregnant woman."

"Ah, okay, I guess. You do know what you're doing, right?"

"Yeah, it's going to be okay. You're going to be Uncle 'Rick any day now." She slowly straightened up and willed her focus back on the litter in front of her.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Wow! I feel like I have been out of circulation for a while. I am ready, ready, ready for Hope Springs to finish. Honestly, I love this story, but it's time, and I have ideas for other fics I would like to do. Two more chapters and it's a wrap. I get great support from all of you, and I love it. I wish I could more adequately express how wonderful it is to hear from you.

Thanks as always to the amazing Marlou!

Sheila

Hope Springs

Chapter 18

It was the sand, always the sand. Lucy stretched her tanned legs deep into the sand and smiled. It was that smile of true satisfaction that most adults had already lost. Her hands were filled with sand, and she was busy building a mountain. It was littered with sticks and leaves that were strategically placed in a design that only she understood.

Grissom suggested that she make a hotel for bugs and she blinked in surprise. She looked around, but found nothing scurrying by. He chuckled softly and produced a handful of ants he had been collecting since he had sat down. Carefully he deposited them in strategic places and Sara wondered who watched them with more fascination. Lucy bent her curly head close to the sand pile and observed them scoot in and out of her creation. Grissom talked in low tones about their lives; telling her amazing facts about her hotel guests.

Sara sat on the edge of the sand box. Momentarily, the heaviness of her swollen body and relentless heat on her face and shoulders were forgotten because she was watching something that she believed was meant to be. She was sure of it. Lucy had recognized Grissom the moment she saw him, and Sara fought back tears when she came up to him with a big hug and called him Bunny.

The two of them were playing as if there was no one else in the world; Sara was forgotten on the side but she felt no jealousy. Rather a sense of pride filled her that she had found this gentle, patient man to father her children. Mary sat at a table several yards away, and Sara knew she should join her, but she sensed a solemn energy in the woman and expected that she had news. There was only one piece of news that Sara wanted to hear, and she expected that Mary would deliver it with a smile on her face. Sara couldn't sense a smile within twenty yards of Mary Revoy right now, and there was a pang of fear knocking about her gut.

Grissom let out a sigh of satisfaction and produced a beetle from the grass behind him. He deposited it on the hotel and began to gently prod it with his finger, telling her facts about their lives in tones reserved reserved for storytellers.

A contraction hit her again, but it was halfhearted like most of them were today. She was over a week past her due date and more than a little frustrated. It almost felt like a personal failing; something she must have done wrong that prevented her body from going into a proper labor. She had gone to the doctor and demanded answers. He had merely laughed at her, and told her that there were no hard and fast rules. Some babies came early and others came late. He did schedule her to be induced, and so she knew that tomorrow, come hell or high water, she was going to deliver this baby.

It didn't seem natural somehow and she added the inducement to her list of ways she had already failed this baby. She desperately hoped that her mood would settle once this baby was born, and her body became hers again. Two other toddlers crouched down beside Lucy, their chubby hands on their knees, and began to observe the goings on over at the bug hotel. Grissom moved back a little to give them room, and began to coax Lucy to interact with them. She looked up at them, her wild, brown curls framing her head like a wreath, and narrowed her eyes a bit. Sara noticed that Lucy tensed as if feeling territorial. The toddlers looked on, oblivious to the energy of their tiny host. Grissom gently whispered to Lucy, and Sara saw her relax. Within minutes, the two interlopers were participating in the remodeling of the premises. Bugs were captured with little hands and deposited in the sandy pile. Sara noticed that each child seemed to play their own version of this game, and she remembered from her reading that children at this age are generally not at a developmental stage for cooperative play.

Grissom slowly got up, wiping sand off his tan slacks, and came over to where she was sitting. He reached over with both hands, and she let him pull her to her feet. The heat and the aching and the contractions left her a little shaky, and she leaned into him.

"Should we go talk to Mary?"

"I don't like the look on her face," she whispered.

Grissom glanced over his shoulder at the woman sitting with her briefcase at the picnic table behind them. She peered back at him in sunglasses too big for her face. He sighed and tightened his arm around Sara. "Honey, we need to know."

Sara nodded and let him lead her over to the picnic table. Mary moved her briefcase over so that Sara had a place to sit. "Any closer to finding the pedophile?"

Grissom shook his head. "We're not sure that he is a pedophile."

Mary rolled her eyes. "If he's not, then he is just as evil, but I'm calling him a pedophile because it is the most visceral description I can come up with."

Sara scanned the park. "It amazes me how many people still bring their children out in the open despite all of the warnings that have been posted."

He shrugged. "That sense of invulnerability, the idea that it will only happen to someone else, is always present for some people."

"Mary, have you taken time to think about us? Will you consider us for Lucy?" Sara shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

"I did my home study on the other family, and they have been spending time with her. They have been doing really well. It's going better than I had expected. Lucy looks forward to spending time with them."

Sara could sense what was coming. "You have to give us more time. Grissom only called you a couple of days ago. We haven't had an opportunity to present to you as a family."

"Sara, please. I don't have a lot of discretion here. Federal law says that preference is given to adoptive parents who are racially similar. I had hoped that there would be some wiggle room; there were questions on their application that worried me, but none of these questions have developed into concerns."

"Mary, are you telling us that you are making a recommendation for these parents to adopt?" Grissom had settled behind Sara, massaging her tight shoulders.

"There will be a probationary period, but I don't want to string you along. These are ideal circumstances for Lucy. I don't think that you should continue to seek her adoption. The odds are stacked against you. Both of you work tremendous hours, no experience with children, a baby already coming into the house, and then there are the inter-racial issues. I can't make a case for it."

Sara held one hand across her belly, while the other one capped her eyes in an effort to control the emotion that threatened to burst forth. Grissom's grip on her shoulders tightened.

"You played us." Grissom voice was soft in tone only.

She closed her eyes and looked down. "I did. I wanted this to work for you beyond the point of reason. I wanted this to work because there was something so pure about the detached scientist captured by a child, and then you, Sara, with that fierce edge of yours; the two of you coming in with nothing but the courage to follow your hearts. I thought it would mean more than all the right demographics, but I was wrong. They fit all the categories, and have passed the home study, and now it's out of my hands. Even if I wanted to recommend you, I am prohibited by federal law."

"Damn!" Grissom exploded. "We'll get a lawyer, Mary. This isn't over. We are not giving up on this."

"Stop it!" Sara wrenched away from his protecting hands, and turned to face him. "She never guaranteed either of us anything. She gave us a chance. That's all."

"It's not enough." He looked past Sara to Mary. "I have never wanted anything so much as I have wanted this life with Sara and children. Nine months ago, I didn't even know such a longing existed. Lucy is every bit a part of this new life as is the baby being born to Sara and I. This is about more than righting a wrong for Lucy's mother. There is something that happened between me and Lucy. It happened for Sara too. I…don't have the words to explain to you…that she's a part of us."

Mary took off her sunglasses and looked at both of them with shiny eyes. "I don't have a way to undo this. I wish I did."

Grissom started to protest further, but Sara reached up and put an arm on his shoulder, "Shhhh! She's watching."

Lucy was looking at them with a trembling frown etched onto her tiny features. Her hands were filled with sand slowly shifting through the cracks in her fingers, and her two small friends had disappeared. Grissom groaned and trotted over to her. Instinct more than experience told him that she was frightened by the raised voices. He scooped her up and hugged her; feeling her arms holding him tightly around the neck.

Sara thought she might drown in the sadness she felt, but she squeezed her lips tightly and managed a smile for Lucy. Mary shoved her dark glasses back on her face and looked away. He rocked her for a few moments, breathing in the soft smell of her skin. The beeper attached to his hip erupted, and he reached down to grab it. He looked at its display and frowned.

"What is it?"

"Brass."

"Give her to me," Sara ordered. Reluctantly, he pried the child from him, and placed her on the end of Sara's knee. She leaned over and awkwardly wrapped her arms around her. Grissom turned around and punched buttons on his phone.

Sara turned to Mary. "I should be angry at you. This is breaking my heart, but I guess I understand what you were trying to do, and I think I am grateful that I even had this opportunity to know her. More than anything I want her to be happy. If you think this is the right thing, then I have nothing to argue with you."

"That's very Mother Theresa of you, but I'm not sure of anything. I'm just trying to do the best I can without having clairvoyance."

Grissom came striding toward them. "Brass and Nick have a partial fingerprint. They want to try a new process that predicts the missing edges, EDG, and they want me to oversee the procedure. It's important. Right now, I am the only one certified to do the procedure. I'll take you with; have you home in a couple of hours." He avoided addressing Mary.

Sara nodded, "Go, take care of it. I want to stay; just a little while longer. Mary can drop me off at home."

He set his mouth. "I think it is better if we stay together. You're so close to your time."

"Mary will take care of me. I want to spend more time with Lucy."

Grissom looked ready to argue, but produced nothing more than a grimace. "Brass and Nick are coming to pick me up so I'm leaving the car, but I don't want you driving it, understand? I'll pick it up later."

"You're the boss." She reached over and squeezed his hand. "See you in a couple of hours."

He reached down and kissed Lucy on her curly head. The child reached up for him, and he stepped back a little, putting space between himself and the girl. Sara blinked in surprise. He was so much more sensitive than he ever allowed people to see. Losing Lucy was going to leave a permanent scar on his heart. Sara would feel it too, but she knew Lucy's happiness would compensate her pain.

She let him turn and walk away. "It's okay, baby," she said as she rocked Lucy. "You still get to see Bunny. He's just gotta go to work right now."

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Grissom climbed in the truck, offering nothing more than a grunt as greeting. Nick raised his brows and chose not to inquire as to his boss's mood. Brass was a different animal, and Nicky wasn't sure if he waded in because he didn't understand the dangers or because he didn't care.

"How's my pumpkin? You got her playing with bugs yet?"

Grissom turned away and stared out the window. Brass looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Lucy's doing okay, right?"

"Mary's not giving her to us, but I'm sure you know that. How does that fit into your grand plan?"

Brass stared out the front window. "It didn't." He banged his hand against the steering wheel. "Shit!"

Nicky closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto the seat.

"She picked the other family. Said she didn't really have a choice."

"Can you still keep in touch? You can still see her, right? I mean…damn, I don't know. I don't…"

Grissom turned his attention away from the scenery. "Don't you? You've had all the answers up to this point. Why stop now?"

Brass let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Gil, I should never have gotten involved."

A silence descended, and Nick wished he could safely exit out the window.

Finally, Grissom sighed, "You wanted something good to happen for Sara and me. I can appreciate that. I even bought in; it just wasn't meant to be."

"The other family is good?"

Grissom swallowed, "They sound perfect for her. I should be happy. They will have everything she needs; better than what we could give her."

"Bullshit!" Brass said in response. "You would have been great parents! Let's get a lawyer."

Grissom glared at him.

Nicky rolled his eyes, and leaned forward from the backseat. "All right, that's enough. Shut up, Brass! You've done enough. Grissom is going to hit you if you keep this up, and you're going to land us in the backseat of a parked car. And the one I'm going to blame is not going to be Grissom. So, either stop the car so I can get out or let's just talk about the friggin' fingerprint."

Brass gripped the steering wheel and stared out the window. Grissom went back to staring out the passenger window. Nick breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back into his seat.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Sara was hot. All of the invulnerability she was feeling earlier was gone as was her joy. Lucy had become fascinated with a toddler swing and it was all she could do to keep pushing the swing. Mary offered to help, but Sara wanted this time, needed it in fact, to just be about her and Lucy. It had only been ten minutes since Grissom had left, and she was doing her best to balance her emotions. The sun was bright overhead, and the park was still filled with the screams of children playing. In the background, she heard a woman calling for her son.

Sara knew Mary would let them see Lucy again; maybe even a few more times, but that still didn't help her know how to say good-bye to this child. She couldn't help feeling selfish. In a day, she would have a child of her own, and yet she couldn't let go of the pain of losing Lucy. Again, she heard a woman screaming above the din of a busy park.

She wondered if there was a way they could stay involved, something where they could see Lucy from time to time. They could still buy her gifts for holidays and birthdays. Maybe Grissom would still have opportunities to teach her about science. Sara harbored these fantasies, but was frightened to speak them. She suspected that they would never represent reality to the new adoptive parents. The woman screamed again, this time yelling her son's name over and over. As if waking from a sleep, Sara looked up. Mothers were gathering around a woman standing in the middle of the park who was yelling, "Jeffrey!" over and over in a shrill voice.

She saw Mary emerge from the crowd and trot over to her. She was punching numbers into her cell as she ran. "It's a 3 year old boy. He was playing in the sand just a couple of minutes ago, and now he's gone. I'm calling for help. We can organize a search."

Sara lifted Lucy out of the swing and put her down. She grabbed her hand and began walking rapidly toward the crowd. Mary followed behind, shouting particulars into the phone. Sara looked wildly around her. Everywhere she looked, women were grabbing their children and holding them close. Sara broke through the crowd, searching for the mother. The shaken woman was surrounded by people, all talking to her at the same time. Sara reached in and grabbed the woman's shoulders, shaking her gently. "Look at me. I work crime scenes. Tell me exactly where your son was sitting when you last saw him."

The woman tried to focus her attention. Slowly, she turned and pointed at a spot in the sand. Sara waved her free arm. "Everyone back away! Please!"

She turned and handed Lucy to Mary. Immediately she could tell that the scene was comprised. There were footprints everywhere. A half built sandcastle was abandoned. The women stood behind her, murmuring softly.

She saw candy wrappers and napkins strewn in one spot next to the sand. There was something about it that looked anything but random. She leaned back, bracing herself with both arms. "Call Grissom and Brass," she ordered. "Tell 'em this is it. This is our kidnapper." Mary took Lucy and moved away from the crowd.

She stood up and ordered the women to give her more space. A large black woman took over and pushed everyone several yards away from her. She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to understand the meaning of the trash. She had to know why someone would grab a child and drop trash. Was it purposeful? Was there meaning? She turned around, thinking, thinking, thinking. If it wasn't purposeful, if it had no meaning, why would the trash get left?

She looked around, noting the general cleanliness of the rest of the park. It was a nice park, almost always clean. Every time she came, there was at least one maintenance person wheeling a barrel around, picking up trash as kids played. In fact, she had seen a guy doing that very thing just a few minutes ago. Everything stopped for a moment and she groaned deeply.

Around the park, she looked for him. He had just been here. A trash man picking up wrappers and napkins who could also pick up children and dump them in his barrel. A messy operation for sure; one where trash was sure to be spilled as he stuffed the child inside. "The trashman," she squeaked. "Where's the trashman?"

The women looked at her, but no one moved. Sara tried again, "The guy picking up trash with the barrel; where is he?"

The women moved apart, looking around the park. The park had become a silent place. Beyond them, nothing moved. Then a woman with three small children clinging to her legs pointed to the parking lot. A man was disappearing around the back of a van.

She wrapped one arm around her increasingly cramping belly. "Stay back, all of you! I'm law enforcement. I'm just gonna get close enough for a license plate. No one follow." She started moving as fast as she could, trying to ignore the sweat pouring down her face and the pain shooting through her belly.

Behind her there were shouts, and then the voice she had come to know from the black woman sounded and all voices stopped. Sara swallowed hard and kept moving. She reached the edge of the parking lot, and could see that the van doors were still open. She didn't see the trashman anywhere, but the barrel was already loaded in the back. She looked around, holding her breath, trying to sense his presence. She got to the second row of cars, and felt panic rising in her. She was no longer visible to the women in the park. She was close enough to see the plate, but it was blocked by the open door. She edged around out into the open, and found herself less than twenty yards from the barrel in the back. Again, she looked around and saw no one. Concern for the child overcame her and she approached. There was the sound of sirens in the distance, and Sara was tempted to just plant herself behind a car and wait. Seven months ago, she would never have considered it; she would have been too focused on the situation, but now, she knew that life was about more than just her choices. She took note of the license number, and started to back away. Even before she saw him, she could hear his heavy breath. She whirled around, her arms up ready to strike, but his big hands grabbed her arms and he pushed hard. Sara backpedaled and landed hard against the back bumper of the van. She moaned and slid down to the ground. Squinting against the sun, she looked to see an older man in a city park uniform staring down at her. "Las Vegas crime lab," she mumbled, "Show me what's in the barrel."

He ignored her, instead reaching behind her into the back of the van and rummaging around. When he stepped back, she saw a tire iron in his hand. She breathed in hard, and squinted at him. Before he could make a move there was a blur and he was stumbling away from her. There was the sound of a crack and then another. Sara pulled herself up to her knees and watched the man stumble and fall. Behind him, she saw one of the mothers with a Little League bat standing over him. Other mothers stood around her holding bats, sticks, and one woman was even holiding a tennis racket in her hand.

Mary walked up to the fallen man, "We're going to look in that barrel. You move a muscle and these women will be more than happy to beat you to death. And when we find that child and all the other children you have taken, not one of these women will be missing a minute's sleep over what we had to do to you."

She reached over to help Sara to her feet, but Sara grimaced as Mary pulled at her arms, and sat back down on the ground. "Did he hurt you bad, honey?"

Sara shook her head and groaned, "Just bruised me up. Get at the barrel. Find the child."

Mary nodded.

"Where's Lucy?" Sara felt her head swimming in the bright light of a hot, summer day.

"She's fine. There is a woman keeping her with her own kids. I'll go get her but, first, let's get you out of the sun." Mary leaned over and took hold of her shoulders. Other arms appeared and the women picked her up and set her on the grass under a tree. More shouts and the barrel was pulled out of the back of the van. The sirens were deafening, and squad cars showed up, parking on the sidewalk and doubleparking in the middle of the street.

Through blurry eyes she saw women digging through the barrel. There was a yelp and one of the women pulled a limp child from its depths. Shouting occurred from all directions. The child's mother was there too, grabbing at his limp form.

"Chloroform," she croaked, "chloroform." A woman swiveled her head and nodded. She urged the women to get the boy into some shade and then began fanning his drugged breathing. Sara wanted water, she thought about offering $20 for a bottle of water, but she seemed unable to communicate her need.

Things started to happen fast. Police officers appeared and swarmed the downed man. Others chased the women over to the shade and tried to pry the child from their midst. Chaos ensued until they slowly realized a more cooperative role. Soon paramedics ran past with a stretcher. The kidnapper was on his feet now, his hands secured behind his back. She recognized Brass standing next to him, talking intently into his ear. The man shook his head emphatically, but it didn't slow Brass. He started shouting at the man.

"He pushed her against the van hard. I saw it." Sara turned her head to see who was telling this story. She saw Mary trotting toward her, Lucy in her arms. A couple of paramedics followed her.

"Sara!" came a shout from another direction. She turned her head in that direction and saw Grissom and Nick running at her. She tried to sit up again, but another pain hit her gut hard. Within seconds, there were no less than five people crouching before her, but her attention was taken with the intense blue eyes staring into hers.

"I'm fine," Her smile came off as a grimace. "Just hot and tired and thirsty. I got too close. He pushed me, but I'm fine." She tried to stifle a moan as another cramp gripped her. "And some cramping, but we know better than to pay attention to that."

"You can't even sit up. What's wrong?" Grissom looked at the paramedics checking blood pressure and pulse.

"I'm just, um…overtired," she mumbled. "Do you have water? I'm so thirsty."

One paramedic looked up. "Blood pressure is 90 over 60. Shock, maybe some sunstroke."

Another cramp tore through her and she moaned. Lucy screwed up her face and started to cry. Mary turned her tiny head away and walked away.

"She's in labor, isn't she?" Grissom was stroking her hair gently.

"'Fraid so. We got to get her on the bus." The paramedics ignored further inquiries. One attached an IV while another began slamming the kits shut. Nicky helped them transfer her onto a gurney. Pain was continual now, and every movement brought harder cramping. Grissom stayed with her face at every second. 'It's okay, Sara. It's okay. This is good, you know. Just what you've been waiting for, honey. We're going to have a baby."

Brass appeared out of nowhere, eyes wide. "Is she going to have a baby?"

"And this is a surprise to you?" Nicky walked past, patting him on his shoulder. "You weren't tipped off by the weight gain?"

"Ahhh, it hurts," Sara winced. "Shit! Whose idea was this?"

He forced a smile, hiding the anxiety building in him. "If I remember correctly, neither one of us was doing much thinking at the time."

"Are you ready for your son?"

"Yes, but right now, Sara, this is all about you. You mean everything to me."

Paramedics loaded the gurney onto the ambulance, and Grissom climbed in after. A paramedic turned and frowned at him. "Are you family?"

"You bet I am." Grissom brushed past the man and settled in beside her.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I get this to you under less than ideal circumstances. My laptop took a dive, and I pray for it every day. Hopefully, I will have it back to me next week. I am borrowing computer time from a housemate, and stealing a little time at work. This is the second to the last chapter. It is so sweet at this point that I can hardly stand myself, but I can't seem to write it any other way. Please brush with your favorite fluoride toothpaste before and after reading this chapter and everything should be fine.

Sheila

Marlou rocks. Yeah!

**Hope Springs**

**Chapter 19**

This was a hell Grissom had never experienced before, and he hoped to never experience it again. Relaxing in the chair he had chained himself to was nearly impossible. Everything around him was electric with the visceral sense of her suffering. Voices and moans and beeping and concerned tones and the look on her face when a contraction hit; all of it overwhelmed him. The conversation around him had started to blur. Doctors and nurses checked vitals and monitored machines. Their voices were low and calm and Grissom found this surreal. They acted as if unaware of the tremendous crisis unraveling in front of them. Several times, they stopped to assure him that everything was going as well as could be expected, but he felt placated rather than informed. He stopped asking. She was battling shock and sunstroke, and was not feeling strong enough to help labor progress. IV fluids were being pumped into one thin arm. Patches and lines and machines kept track of the baby on her chest and belly. Everything was being done that could be done, but he worried it wouldn't be enough.

Another contraction hit, and a moan rose up her throat. Eyes squeezed shut, she rolled her head side to side, hair wet with sweat strewn in distressed tendrils on the pillow behind her.

Every gesture at comfort he offered felt laughable. He was telling her things would be okay when he had no real assurances of that reality. He tried to walk through her contractions with her as if he had some idea of the pain that seized her gut and forced her to double over, gripping the bed sheets desperately. But his words had no impact on her pain, and so he was forced to soldier through, murmuring platitudes and encouragement that he himself didn't believe.

Her moaning subsided and someone pressed a cup of ice chips into his hands. He accepted it gratefully, feeling for the first time that he could offer her something real. Gently he pressed a cool chip it to her dry lips, and she managed a weak grin. He took another chip, and slid it across her forehead and down her cheek. She let out a sigh and her smile widened. "Thank you. Thank you for everything." Her voice was thin and reedy.

"Shhhhh!" he ordered, "Just rest. Let me talk for awhile."

She swallowed tightly and nodded. He continued to gently massage her face with ice. "So I want to tell you a story; something to pass the time. Story starts a long time ago when I came to Berkeley for the 1st time as a visiting professor. I don't think I ever told you this. Let's see. Let's start with the fact that I was very nervous about taking the position. Didn't really think I was going to be much of a teacher. I mean, I had to teach a little in grad school, of course, but mostly, they allowed me to lose myself in research. I can't even really remember why I took the gig."

She started to speak but he pressed his fingers to her lips.

"I'm doing the talking. You rest. Maybe this story will even put you to sleep." He chuckled softly. "So where was I? Oh yes! I was nervous and over prepared. My plan was to drown the students in information and hope that they couldn't see that the emperor was wearing no clothes. But there was this girl. And I mean, what a girl. Brown hair, eyes, beautiful girl. First time I saw her all I could do was stare. I was 40 years old, and I felt like a dirty old man. I was sure that she could see me staring at her so I did everything I could to ignore her. While I talked, I looked everywhere but at her. But she was relentless, that girl. She kept asking questions. She didn't even care when I didn't acknowledge her. She jumped in anyway. By the end of that first seminar I was so unsettled, my face was hot with embarrassment. I was sure that everyone had seen me flustered over her. So I grabbed my books and briefcase, and left before anyone could try and talk to me."

Her eyes were closed and he wondered for a minute if she was sleeping, but she groaned and her eyes fluttered open when he stopped. "More," she said.

"Okay." He put another ice chip between her lips and she sucked it in gratefully. "Well, I was sure I had seen the last of this distracting goddess, but there she was at the next seminar sitting in the front seat. This time I let her talk. I answered her questions, and I didn't even care when our conversation began to exclude the others in the class. After class, I even spoke with her, and I learned that she wasn't just beautiful and smart, she was ballsy too. Looked me straight in the eye. Showed no deference to my position. I felt like I was talking to a colleague instead of a grad student barely out of her teens."

"I was 25," she protested.

He smiled at her and for a moment, they were lost in each other. He tucked a dark lock behind her ear. "Are you going to let me finish this story?"

She nodded.

"So I finally asked her out or she asked me, I can't remember. I had this conversation in my head over and over on the way to Humperdink's. I justified, I clarified, I lied, and I came up with a thousand ways to tell her she wasn't possible for me. But she was bewitching and I was out of my mind. I let it all happen. I never had a more amazing night. Every inch of her was perfect, and the trust and tenderness she showed me took my breath away. I didn't sleep for one minute. For hours, I lay on my side and stared at her sleeping naked, her breath rising and falling in her bare rib cage. A thousand times I resisted the urge to stroke her skin and whisper all my true thoughts into her ear. But, instead, I panicked. She was this deep, dark beauty, and I was going to make a fool of myself, and she was going to bolt the minute she really saw me for who I was. I knew I was doing both of us a favor when I waited for her to wake up and then pulled away--."

He stopped when she rolled her eyes.

He cleared his throat. "Well, that's what I thought. Anyway, it didn't work. My plans were to promise to stay in touch as a means of easing the disappointment, and then just disappear from her life. I knew that a girl like her would forget me in a heartbeat. But, as it turns out, I was not in control of this situation. I saw her face everywhere. I started twenty e-mails to her that I never sent. And I dreamt about her. So it had to happen. One day I slipped and actually hit 'send', and the rest is history. Every response she sent spurred me on. I was crafty and came up with professional reasons to talk to her. I even devised a way to get her to Vegas. But then I saw her and got scared again. I was a real shit to this beautiful girl. Scared to lose control; scared to learn the truth about who I was and what I was capable of. But somehow, this girl, she never gave up. She hung in there, and, for reasons I'll never understand, she accepted what I could give. She waited beyond all that was reasonable, and she forgave me all of my sins. But it took her leaving me for me to realize that she wasn't a choice, she never had been. She is every bit a part of me as forensics and entomology. She's my beautiful butterfly and the fiercest, strongest woman I have ever known. I couldn't survive her absence. I knew it. I might keep breathing, but my spirit would fade." Something caught in his throat, and his voice broke. For a moment, he chewed on his lower lip. "But this girl took me back. After everything, she still wanted me. The generosity, the fighting spirit, the courage…all of it amazes me every day I am with her." He leaned over and spoke into her ear. "Thank you, Sara. Thanks for being the woman who consumes me, the woman I can't live without. Thanks for giving me dreams I never knew were possible." He kissed her forehead gently and then rested his mouth there, his cool skin a relief to her flushed face.

She groaned as another contraction rose up in her. He gripped her shoulders, and did his best to support her through the pain. It seemed like an eternity before she was able to sink wearily back into the pillow and breathe deeply again. Grissom whispered further confessions into her ear until she dropped into sleep.

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Nick didn't even try to sleep in the hardbacked chair. It amazed him that people could, but clearly this was the case as evidenced by the bodies of Warrick and Greg bookending him, slumped in the hard chairs, one snoring loudly and the other one drooling and whispering things that made Nick's ears want to bleed. His lower back ached and he could move to the other side of the room, but he didn't. He was exhausted. They all worked the case into the night and morning, and now it 10 a.m., almost 24 hours since the attempted kidnapping at the park. He was sure that they would have already had a chance to peek at baby boy Grissom in the nursery, but instead they were greeted by fairly tense OB staff and the uncertainty of a closed off delivery room. Grissom had wandered out once in the last hour looking lost and blurry. He mumbled something about her resting and then disappeared back into its depths.

Catherine and Brass had only shown up in the last ten minutes, looking exhausted. The garbage man had a name: Rudy Kent. He had a trailer out on the outskirts of the city. They had all been part of the screaming caravan that sped to his place. The dusty trailer was hidden by a hill, and without directions they would never have stumbled into it. As always Brass ran a clean operation. He was in command without question. SWAT didn't blink an eye without his approval. But he did, and doors and windows were taken hard. Men with assault weapons scurried through openings, leaving a yellow cloud of dry clay in their wake.

Nick said a little prayer to himself as he did sometimes when the stakes were high. Standing there with a kit in hand and nothing to do but wait was unnerving for him. Shouts and banging issued from within the home, and he turned his head to see Catherine barking at Brass about compromised evidence. Jim stood there, his mouth a grim line, and stared at the trailer, never once responding to her. There were shouts from behind the trailer and a large man in a kevlar jacket and assault rifle started waving them over. Everyone broke into a run, Nicky turning the corner before anyone else. Men were gathered around an area that looked like a garden. Nick broke through the ranks and stopped short. Fresh dirt piled in mounds, three mounds elongated, about the right size for three small children.

He took a deep breath and buried his emotions down in his gut. The only reaction he allowed himself was the abuse he heaped on SWAT members who stood too close to the mounds. In a minute it was just him standing there with Brass and Catherine on one side and Warrick and Greg on the other. No one spoke. No one moved until Catherine took a keep ragged breath, and started organizing the crime scene. They worked the night, and discovered under the dirt exactly what they were expecting. The children were gently and carefully ferried to waiting ambulances and whisked them away to the morgue. Brass stared down at the dirt road for a long time as the ambulances sped away. He would be the one to talk to parents. It was never any good to pass it off to someone else. It felt just as raw knowing a subordinate had to be the one to destroy a family with devastating news.

Catherine followed him to his truck and climbed in. She looked back at her guys and nodded. Instinctively they knew they would be the ones to process the scene and Catherine would be the one to go with Brass and speak softly to the families and watch mothers dissolve in their grief.

Everyone trudged through the night solemnly completing the ugly work of murder investigation. Catherine and Brass didn't speak when they came in. They merely found a spot on the other side of the room and sat together in a weary, companionable silence. Nick knew that none of them would truly be able to rest until the stink of murder was countered by the miracle of life.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

"It's time to talk seriously about a Caesarian." The doctor stared unblinkingly at Sara. Grissom let out a deep breath and leaned against the back of the chair.

Sara groaned. "Just give me a few more hours."

Her obstetrician shook his head grimly. "I don't think it's going to make much difference. You're too tired. The drugs aren't working, and the fetus is becoming stressed. I don't see any reason why we should wait any longer."

"I want…let me think about this."

Grissom nodded at the doc, and turned to Sara. "It's a no brainer, honey. Let's get the baby out."

"I want to do this right."

"Then a Caesarian is the way to go," he said with some finality. He set his mouth and slowly nodded at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I can take more of this."

"Well Sara, I can't. This is enough. It's time to have this baby."

She blinked tears and slowly nodded. He stroked her cheek, and waved the doctor over.

……………………………………………………………………………………

The surgery was amazingly simple. Sara was awake the whole time, and all the anxiety they were both feeling was alleviated with the calm, quick actions of the obstetrics staff. Twenty minutes after giving the nod, Grissom was watching his child be carefully lifted from Sara's womb. He felt dizzy, and his throat was thick with emotion. Instantly, he became worried that they would try and give the baby to him when he was himself barely staying upright, but they proceeded as if he wasn't even there. He turned his attention to Sara's sleepy face and grinned. His face was enormously hot and his eyes wet, but he felt like a hero. The tiny red baby was gently nestled on her chest and Sara cried. Grissom imagined he was too because he was finding it impossible to clear his vision.

"Do you like your son, Gris?" She sobbed.

The doctor chuckled, "I'm afraid we goofed a little on that. It happens."

Sara creased her brow and frowned.

"She's a little girl, Sara; a beautiful, healthy little girl."

Grissom threw back his head and laughed. "I have a daughter. Sara, you gave me a little girl."

Sara looked troubled, "We don't have a name for a girl."

"We can handle problems like this, Sara."

"I can't think of anything."

Grissom could see that she was genuinely distressed. "Hey honey, just rest. It's okay. I got it. I'm gonna find a name for her."

She didn't look relieved.

"I promise. Really. No names from Shakespeare. I'm going to figure this out."

Sara returned her attention to the tiny form in front of her. Two little fists appeared out of the blanket and the baby screwed her face up as she contemplated her new environment. Sara reached in and touched the tiny hands, so tight and furious. She looked up at Grissom, "Definitely has my temperament."

He was too lost in the moment to acknowledge her words. Every priority in his life had magically shifted in the space of a moment, and he was blank to anything other than the two females in front of him.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Brass moaned and jerked away from the insistent hand on his shoulder. He settled his head in the back of the chair again. "Hey Brass! Wake up, man."

Brass's eyes popped open and he squinted into the face above him. Warrick's dreads looked like a halo around his face. "Jim, wake up. You're an uncle."

Brass jerked forward, his eyes blinking wildly, hair sticking up on one side of his head. "What? Sara?"

Warrick smiled at him. Behind him, stood the rest of the CSI gang, grinning like idiots. "A little girl, can you believe it? She was so sure she was having a little boy."

Brass stood up and shook his head once to clear the sleep. "Hot damn! Really! She's okay?"

"Yeah," Catherine engulfed him in a hug. "She had a C-section, but Gil says she's doing really well."

He let out a deep sigh of relief. He looked around and saw it on everyone's face. It was not just the relief for the baby and Sara. It was about the toll a life like theirs took on them: the death and the dishonesty and the inhumanity present on every shift. They needed moments like this; probably more than most people. They needed to know that hope still had a fighting chance in this world.

"Delmonico's," Catherine announced. "I already called. They are going to have the breakfast buffet ready for us: eggs, hashbrowns, french toast, steak, bacon, fruit, bloody mary's and mimosas."

Warrick gave her a look. "It's two in the afternoon and they have breakfast for us?"

She flipped her hair back and gave him one of her delicious grins. "I know people, 'Rick. I know people."

Sara slept hard. The lights were dimmed and Grissom sat quietly beside her. He was tired too, but the miracle of this baby had not yet left him. Images of the last 36 hours flashed in his eyes over and over; the excitement had yet to leave his body.

The door slowly opened and a nurse walked in with his daughter. "She's doing just great. I thought you might want to have her sleep in here with you."

Without waiting for a response, she placed the bundle into his arms. He pulled her into his chest carefully. He couldn't help thinking of her a pupa emerged from a cocoon. So delicate and fragile, but already surging with the need for discovery. Gently he unwrapped her, eager to explore the miracle of her. Her toes were so small and perfect that it took his breath away. The tiny fists lay on her round chest and he noted the almost complete absence of a neck holding up her head. Every once in a while, she breathed a sigh, and he found that he responded in kind. Then her eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, he was staring into his daughter's eyes. He understood that eye color wasn't clear at birth, but he was sure he could see the deep blue of the ocean within them. Her vision wasn't clear, and he noted how she responded more to touch and sound. His big fingers engulfed her head as he gently stroked her face. "Hi sweetie,' he began. Her face jerked and moved as she sought out the sound. A shiver passed through him and he spoke again, "We've been waiting for you, and your mom and I are so happy to see you. We are so lucky to have such a beautiful girl such as yourself come to be with us." He modulated his voice so that it was gentle and smooth and he could feel her relax in his arms. "We are going to have such fun, you and I. It seems that I have quite a facility for playing with little girls. We'll read books and build blocks. We'll find parks and take walks. I can't wait to show you all the amazing things I saw when I was a boy. I can't wait to begin." She closed her eyes and her arms stopped pumping. He could tell that she was concentrating on the sound of his voice.

"I have to find a name for you," he whispered. "I want a strong name, something beautiful. Your mom's right about Shakespeare, you know. His plays are not exactly riddled with strong, confident women. Lady Macbeth comes to mind, but she wasn't exactly one of the good guys. Plus I don't even think we actually learn her name in the play." The tiny hands were suspended in mid air as if she were waiting for a resolution to this dilemma. "It would be easy to name you Olivia. It's your grandmother's name and it's beautiful, but I think I want something distinctly yours. I have been thinking about the last nine months with your mother, and I found one moment when things really changed for us. It was the moment where I knew that we were meant to be. I am sort of stuck on that moment, and have a name I rather like. I also have a middle name, but it has no real significance other than Shakespeare invoked it quite a bit, and I like the sound. So let me try it out with you to see what you think." He took a deep breath and spoke, "Dakota Rose. What do you think of that? Dakota Rose Grissom. I am sort of nuts for it myself. Do you think your mom will like it? What do you think? We could call you Dakota or Rosie or if we are really ambitious, we could call you Dakota Rose. You have choices." The tiny mouth opened and yawned. He loved how the yawn took over her whole face. "In some circles, that would not be considered a resounding yes. Should we wait until your mom wakes and find out what she thinks?" He rocked her gently back and forth, saying the name softly over and over. There was a moan and he looked over to see Sara glaring at him with one eye open. "Get it on the birth certificate already. We like it. In fact, I suspect Dakota's tired of you fussing at her about it." Sara closed her eyes again and settled deep into her pillow. Within moments, the sound of Sara's breathing mingled with Dakota's gentle snores, and he found himself for the first time in two days, unable keep his eyes open.

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	20. Chapter 20

A/N: It's true! Hope Springs is officially finished. I have had what can only be described as a love/hate relationship with this story. The best part of it has been all of you taking the time to read, patiently following this story these last four months. You have been wonderful. Thanks for hanging in there with me. I probably won't post another story for a little while. Have to get my beloved laptop back and I am thinking about maybe posting a House fic. Don't know though. Hope to talk with you all soon on my fics or yours.

Thanks to the lovely Marlou for helping me look better than I am.

Sheila

**Hope Springs**

**Chapter 20**

Sara couldn't help but smile at the greedy infant who suckled on her breast. Even at 6 weeks old, it was clear that Dakota was never going to meet a meal she would turn down. Sara held her close and watched her little pink face so intent on the project at hand. She extended a finger and let Dakota capture it and squeeze it in her tiny fist. Her breathing was so noisy when she ate, and every once in a while she would let go and look at her mother. Sara said her name, and Dakota burst forth with a milky smile. After a few minutes of gummy smiles and cooing, she would shake her little face again, and search for her mother's nipple.

Sara marveled at the changes of the last year; not just about her life. She felt changed as a person. Dakota brought her a peace and a focus that she had never had before. Raising this baby to be happy and strong replaced almost every other dream she'd ever had. There was one dream she still harbored, but she was happy to live with him in the undefined manner currently in place. For some reason it worked. He took a light schedule, 3 shifts a week for the next three months so that he would have time to help her, and she found that she was surprisingly content to be at home with the baby. Dakota never stopped fascinating and delighting her. Nothing spoke of permanency for all of them, but she didn't quite mind; there were too many blessings present to entertain doubts.

"An iced tea for the new mother," Mark said as he walked into the living room. He put the glass in front of her and dropped into the couch beside her. Sara didn't feel like she was exposing herself and she appreciated the comfort with which he handled her breast feeding.

"I wish you and Matthew were staying longer. It's been nice to have you around...and Matthew is great although you have to convince him to stop buying things. You'd think he'd stumbled across a homeless family the way he keeps loading us down with baby things."

Mark smirked, "It brings him so much pleasure to buy for her. I don't really have the heart to tell him."

Sara sighed, "She is going to be the best dressed baby at the playground."

The doorbell rang, and Mark leaped up to get it. Warrick slapped him on the back when he answered and Nicky reached out to shake his hand as he passed. His eyes popped when he saw Sara though, "Whoa!"

She shook her head and laughed at him. "Nicky, knock it off. You can't really see anything. There's a blanket. Plus, I am guessing you don't want to deal with a hungry baby two hours from now."

"I know, I know," he said, continuing to avert his eyes.

Warrick laughed at him and leaned over to kiss Sara, "Where's Gris?"

"He and Matthew had a little errand to run," she replied.

"One of many they have been running in the last few days," Mark commented as he settled back into the couch with her.

Warrick raised an eyebrow, "Those two up to something?"

"Probably, but we just can't think what it is," Sara said as she pulled sleeping Dakota away from her nipple and settled her on her shoulder, gently rubbing her back in search of gas.

"Grissom taking you somewhere nice?" asked Nick who had relaxed considerably once Sara was buttoned up again.

"Just a walk; something to get out of the house and then maybe a movie. We should be gone only 3-4 hours. There is expressed milk in the fridge and she'll probably sleep the first two hours."

There was noise from the kitchen and Grissom and Matthew emerged from the back door.

"Speak of the devil..." Mark murmured. Matthew glared at him, and Mark countered with, "What! Warrick asked what you were up to?"

Matthew swung his head in Warrick's direction, "Well, I bet you did, but I am here now, and as you can see, my boyfriend is otherwise occupied."

Warrick nodded, "So I can't run off with Mark this weekend. Is this what I'm hearing?"

Matthew wagged a finger at him, "You think this is funny, but when you have something special, you have to protect it. No taking it for granted. Right, Gil?"

He had to turn his attention away from the tiny bundle resting on Sara's shoulder, "Seems reasonable."

"You're not at all comforted by the fact that I am not gay?"

"You have animal magnetism. Transcends sexuality. You are a dangerous man, Warrick."

"How about me?" Nicky asked, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Hands on his hips, Matthew regarded him for a moment, "Well, you're cute in sort of a Marlboro Man goes to Chem lab sort of way. I'm sure you're great with the girls, but you don't do much for the gay man."

Warrick shook his head, "You asked, Nicky."

Nick threw up his hands, "I don't even know what to do with information like that."

"Okay Matthew, you seem to have rattled enough people for one day. We gotta get going if we're going to make the noon flight." Mark took his boyfriend by the arm and started to lead him to the door. Matthew pulled away, planting hugs and kisses on all including Warrick and Nick.

It was only when the door closed that Nick turned to the others, "I don't get it. I'm pretty sure I should feel insulted or threatened or something, but he kind of grows on you, doesn't he?"

Warrick shrugged his shoulders, "Yup, that is the mystery who is Matthew. All I know is that I apparently have animal magnetism and you do not. Food for thought, Nicky."

Nick rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Sara had disappeared into the bedroom and Grissom sat in a chair, rocking his daughter, oblivious to everything else around him. Sara came back in, dressed for the afternoon and sighed when she saw her scientist lost in space with their baby. She walked over and gently wrestled the child away from him and transferred her to Warrick. Grissom got up, but it then became necessary for her to steer him toward the door. Over her shoulder, she gave last minute directions, "Only 4 oz. at a time, okay? Change her diaper before you feed her. There are extra jammies beside her crib. Any questions, we are on my cell. The number is on the fridge and on the table. There are snacks on the counter for you."

Sara squinted at the sign and then looked at him again, "You thought I would enjoy hiking in a cemetery?"

He shrugged, not quite meeting her gaze, "It's very pretty. Lots of green grass, and you know how hard it is to find good foliage around Vegas."

"It's macabre, Grissom!" She folded her arms and stopped at the gate.

"Okay, look. There is something in there I would like you to see. Can you stop asking questions and just trust me?" As soon as he said it, he was sorry. Trust was still not a subject he had been willing to broach. He tensed for the inevitable response.

"Okay," she said, brushing past him and entering the gate.

He stood there blankly, surprised at her unexpected response. She waited for him, and took his hand when he reached her. "So, since we're alone, I thought we might talk about me going back to work."

He nodded, "I assumed you would want to, although there is no pressure. We're doing just fine without the extra income. I happen to have a knack for investments."

He let her lead her across the green lawn. "I appreciate the space, and I'm in no hurry, but I do see going back to work in the next couple of months. Do you think...Ecklie would take me back part time?"

Grissom chuckled, "He'd be stupid not to." He steered her to the northwest corner, bringing her to a spot where the lawn gently sunk into a stream. He gestured for her to sit. Beyond the stream was the fence which bordered on a nature preserve. "This is a very beautiful spot, don't you think? They call it Hope Springs."

She brought her knees up to her chest and looked around with an odd expression on her face. Then she turned sideways, looking into his face, "Are you dying? You're dying, aren't you?"

His mouth opened and no sound came out. Then he shook his head emphatically, "No! No! I am so sorry. I'm just fine. Really. I promise!"

"Then why are we at a cemetery, Gris?" He could see the concern etched in her features.

"I'm no good at this. It's hard. I never know how to do it right." He let out a big puff of air and looked away.

Sara stared down at the grass, "You have about fifteen seconds to let me know what the hell is going on before I start screaming."

He scrambled to his feet and pulled her up. "Let me show you." He pulled her over to a grave about fifteen yards from the creek bed. There was a small tombstone, beautifully carved, which read, Hope Grissom, Born April 12th, 2001, Died September 5th, 2004.

She stared at it, uncomprehending, and then shook her head at him. He sat down gently next to the stone and pulled her down beside him. "This is...I adopted her when...I am in the process of adopting Attica Jones."

She cocked her head at him, "She's dead. You can't adopt a dead child. Plus, she had a mother."

"Actually Sara, you can. Matthew and I have been working on this for almost five months. It's unusual to say the least, but it can be done. Marianne Jones has signed the papers although she did require some financial encouragement."

Sara let out a ragged breath, "Why?"

"She mattered to you. You never knew her living, but you never knew forgot her humanity in death. You asked me to make sure that she was taken care of, and I thought about it, and decided that this was the best way to do it."

"You..how much money...I don't know what to say," Sara was starting to choke out sobs.

He reached for her hand and pulled her into his chest. "I figured that we could take care of her, and give her a family who would remember who she could have been, and who would mourn for her loss. Dakota would be her little sister, and we would come here to visit and she would matter to us always." He paused for her, but she was crying too hard to respond. "I remembered how you didn't like her name, and Matthew told me about this guy at the morgue who called her Hope, and when I was looking for the right cemetery, I found Hope Springs, and it seemed to all come together so I am in the process of legally changing her name to Hope Grissom. If this is a problem or you don't like the name, just tell me, Sara. This is for you."

She hiccuped into his chest, and raised her tear stained face, "Hope is perfect."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and rocked her gently. Finally he cleared his throat, "I realize this is an odd gift. Most people wouldn't understand. I just thought that with what we do and who we are, that this is a...beautiful thing to do."

She spoke into the fabric of his shirt, "It is, Gris, it's an achingly beautiful thing to do. No one anywhere, ever, have done something like this for me. And the most beautiful part is that no one ever did anything like this for Hope either. I'll never forget this moment."

He sighed and licked his lips, "I'm glad, Sara, but there is one problem."

She looked up into his eyes.

He lowered his head for a moment before continuing, "I haven't signed the papers yet. The adoption isn't final. You see, I was thinking...that Hope deserves a new mother as much as she deserves a father. And it seems that...well, you can't jointly adopt a child. Only one of us can...unless we're married, and so I was wondering if it's still too early for me to ask that question I asked about two months ago..." The words caught in his throat and he stopped.

Sara climbed up his chest and wrapped her long arms around his neck, hissing into his ear, "Of course, I'll marry you, you big dummy. Who else is there? Who else would there ever be?"

He nodded, a smile creasing his soft beard, "Well, that's more like it, Sara. Just what I needed to hear."

She pulled away, and looked him in the eye, "Let's get married right away."

"Absolutely. It's on your timeline. Rent a place. Get a caterer. Whatever you want."

"You're kidding, right? You think I'm going to plan a wedding?" She arched her eyebrow at him, and he noted how amazing it made her look.

"Well, I can help, but I don't think I would be any good at planning a wedding. That is, unless you want takeout from a rib place and a Twins game on the big screen TV at Morton's sports bar."

She smiled broadly, her wet eyes sparkling, "Let's not plan a wedding at all. Let's just get married. I doubt anyone really expects much of a spectacle out of us anyway. We'll grab Catherine, Brass, and head down to the courthouse. Oh shit! I forgot about your mother. She should be there."

Grissom shook his head, "My mother is not a traditional woman. She'll be okay with whatever we decide."

"Yeah, well, I want her there. Let's call her and have her come down sometime in the next few days. We'll go to the courthouse, and afterward, you can take all of us somewhere very expensive to eat. How about that?"

He responded by pulling her back into his arms and down into the grass. She shivered as the soft bristles of his beard massaged her neck. She cleared her throat and spoke, "Say, I've been meaning to tell you that...I've been feeling...athletic again."

"Hmm," he noted as he pressed his lips onto the skin behind her ear. "I'm happy to hear that. I was feeling like a little workout myself."

She slapped the top of his head and pulled away. "Not in front of our daughter, and certainly not in a cemetery."

"Sorry, I guess I kinda forgot myself there." They both leapt to their feet, brushing grass off their pants and twigs from their hair. She looked at him and they both laughed. He took her hand and she leaned into his chest. Together, they walked, sharing thoughts no one else would ever know, basking in the excitement of what was to come.

It was evening by the time they got back; cool and quiet, the only sounds being the chirping of crickets, and they took their time climbing the steps to his condo. "Do we tell them?" She murmured into his shoulder.

"Tomorrow. Right now, I just want it to be about us."

They found Warrick and Nick waiting for them in the living room. Dakota was sleeping on Nick's chest. Without a word, Sara swooped in and scooped the baby into her arms, holding her tightly. Dakota's eyes popped open, but Sara's soothing tones soon lulled her back to sleep.

"Everything okay?" Grissom asked.

Warrick threw a look in Nick's direction, "I'm not babysitting with him anymore. Once he got her, he never gave her up."

"What? She was comfortable. I should disturb her to make you happy," Nick countered.

"Shhhh!" Sara frowned at both of them.

In a softer voice, Warrick said, "I should warn you that Brass is on his way over."

Grissom creased his brow, "Why?"

Nick and Warrick exchanged glances before Warrick continued, "He called about an hour ago looking for you. Said it was an emergency. Said he would be over to wait for you."

There was an odd feeling growing inside of Grissom, "Why didn't you call us?"

"Brass said not to. Said he wanted to talk with you in person," said Nicky.

"Did he tell you what was going on?"

The two men again exchanged looks. "Not really. I think it's best that we wait for Brass."

Sara glared at them, "You know what's going on, and you expect us to just sit here and wait like a couple of idiots. I don't think so. If you know something, spill it."

Nick looked down into his lap, "We don't have details, but he called us from the hospital and we know it was about Lucy Bell."

Sara felt her stomach drop into the floor. She swayed for a moment, and then Nick gently pulled her into the couch beside him. Dakota weathered this incident without a sound.

"What happened to Lucy?" Grissom stared at Warrick.

"We really don't know anything-"

"Damn straight you don't. Didn't I tell you to wait until I got here." Jim Brass stood in the open doorway. "Lucy's going to be fine. Nothing to worry about, really."

Grissom whirled around, "Jesus, Jim, what the hell is going on?"

He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, "Police were called out to the home of Lucy's prospective parents tonight. It seems Lucy's new daddy was beating up Lucy's new mommy."

Sara gasped.

"Turns out that the guy has a history of this, unreported, of course. The wife showed us a scar on her shoulder and one on her thigh. She said that she stayed quiet because he promised he'd stop, and that getting Lucy was proof that he had changed."

"Did she see this? Is she okay?" Grissom was starting to pace.

"Yeah, Mary has her. She didn't see, but she heard, and she's pretty shaken as you can imagine."

Sara handed Dakota off to Nick and stood up, pointing a finger at Brass, "Jim, listen very carefully. Lucy Bell is not going to grow up in a house like that. I know first hand what kind of life that is, and this is not going to happen to her. Do you understand me?"

Jim nodded. "Mary is going to terminate the adoption. It's not going to be too hard. The final papers have not been signed."

"Then what?" Hands on her hips, she ignored the tear falling down her cheek.

Jim swallowed, "Lucy will still need a home."

Grissom stopped and glared at Jim, "So you're saying that she has to start all over again. Meeting prospective families, getting to know strangers, never knowing who she can trust, never knowing who's really going to take care of her."

"Yeah," Jim shifted from foot to foot. "There's...um, one solution. You see, if there was someone who had already gone through the screening and already knew Lucy, well, that would make a difference. Lucy wouldn't have to start over."

Grissom advanced on Brass until he was inches from his face, "Really. So Sara and I should re-invest, knowing that Mary could find somebody more suitable at any time."

"I don't care," Sara said, "I don't care. We want her. We'll do it!"

"You wouldn't have to compete with other parents." Mary stood in the doorway with a sleeping Lucy draped over her shoulder. She looked at Brass, "We got tired of waiting in the car."

Grissom took a deep breath, "What do you mean, Mary?"

"I spoke with my supervisor and pulled Judge Murphy away from the dinner table. If you want her, we can finalize with you. No more looking around. All the paperwork on you is current. We could finalize this adoption within the next two weeks."

"We do, we definitely do. Both of us. We're getting married. We can take her as a married couple." Sara's words tumbled out without censor.

Brass's eyes grew in surprise and Nick's face lit up with a big smile. Mary stepped forward, "I think that's great, but take your time. Think about it. Things are different with a new baby in the house. It's probably been a lot more work than you ever imagined."

Grissom turned to look at Sara who could barely contain her emotions. Then he took a deep breath and said, "We don't need time. Lucy belongs with us. I think I've known it since the day I first saw her. There's really nothing to think about. Just tell us what we need to do and it will get taken care of."

Mary nodded. She walked over to him, easing the child off her shoulder. Lucy's wild curls stuck up around her face, her chubby brown arms limp at her side.. Grissom took her gently, careful not to disturb her slumber. Mary stepped back, "I'll have the lawyers draw up the papers. As far as I'm concerned, she's yours. No more foster homes. If you want, she can stay with you from this moment on. The paperwork will be nothing more than a formality."

Sara pushed Lucy's curls away from her face. "She's ours?"

Mary smiled. "She's a very lucky girl."

Sara nodded, eyes wet with her tears. Lucy shifted on Grissom's shoulder and raised a sleepy head. She looked around for a moment with foggy eyes, caught sight of Grissom's beard and whispered, "Bunny." Then she lay her head down again and dropped back to sleep. Sara leaned her head into Grissom's shoulder, "What do you know? We started the day with one child and ended the day with three."

Grissom buried his head deeper under his pillow and resumed his snoring. But almost immediately he heard that same harsh whisper again. This time there was a persistent tapping on his shoulder. He pried one eye open and found Lucy staring back at him. As usual, her hair defied all of Sara's attention, and corkscrew curls erupted around her face. "Lucy," he mumbled, "Daddy's sleeping."

"I know!" she said in an exaggerated whisper, "Time to wake up."

Grissom lifted his head and peered at the alarm clock. With a groan, he fell back into his pillow. "Daddy's only been sleeping 3 hours. Come back later, Sweetie."

"Mommy's feeding 'Kota, and she's all messy and noisy too. Nobody wants to play with me!"

"Honey," he said into the pillow, "I want to play with you, but I just need a few more hours of sleep."

For a moment there was silence, and Grissom began to delude himself that the 4 year old had responded to reason. Then a tiny finger began to tickle behind his ear. "If you wake up, Daddy, we can play bugs together. Doesn't that sound fun?"

He pulled his matted curls up from the pillow and regarded his little perpetrator, "Honey, I worked all night. Daddy needs a few more hours before he can get up."

She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair, "I want to catch bad guys too. I'm going to be just like Daddy, and kick 'em and punch 'em and shoot 'em, shoot 'em, shoot 'em."

Grissom shook his weary head and made another mental note to talk to Sara about switching day care providers, "No Pumpkin, Daddy doesn't kick and punch, and he certainly doesn't shoot anybody. He catches bad guys with science, remember?"

Sara peeked her head around the corner, "There you are, you little squirrel. I told you, Daddy needs his sleep." She came in and plucked her off the bed. Lucy squirmed in her arms. "I'm sorry. You know how she gets when her daddy's around."

Then came the inevitable, heart wrenching wail, "No, Mommy! I want to play with Daddy!"

"I got it," Sara said as she started off with the inconsolable child.

"Sara, bring her back. It's okay. You've got enough on your hands with Dakota's teething. Besides, you have to go to work yourself in a few hours. Where's that video? The National Geographic Furry Babies one. Put it in. She can lay down with me for awhile and watch."

"Yes, Mommy, please!" The child strained for the bed. With a sigh, Sara let her crawl back onto the bed. Then She found a tattered video and popped it in. Lucy curled up beside Grissom and propped up an elbow on his side. She then began a running commentary on the upcoming scenes in the film, showing the proficiency of someone who has seen it at least 50 times. Grissom settled back into a gentle snore, and Sara quietly backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The End


End file.
